The Tidal Wave by Ethel May Dell (mobi reader TXT) 📖

he does! It is the only fair estimate. Otherwise the blatant fools get all the honey."
Molly uttered a scornful little laugh.
"This is paltry," she exclaimed. "A man's actions are the actual man. He can make his own opportunities. No, Mr. Cleveland. You will never convince me of your intrinsic worth by talking."
She paused, as it were, involuntarily. Again that startled feeling of uncertainty was at her heart. There was a momentary silence. Then Charlie made her an odd, jerky bow, and without a single word further turned and left her.
Quaint as was his attire, ungainly as were his movements, there was in his withdrawal a touch of dignity, even a hint of the sublime; and Molly could not understand it.
She paced the length of the deck and sat down to regain her composure. The interview had left her considerably ruffled, even ill at ease.


III

She had been sitting there for some moments when suddenly, with a great throb that seemed to vibrate through the whole length of the great vessel from end to end, the engines ceased. The music in the large saloon, where the first-class passengers were dancing, came to an abrupt stop. There was a pause, a thrilling, intense pause; and then the confusion of voices.
A man ran quickly by her to the bridge, where she could dimly discern the first-officer on watch. She sprang up, dreading she knew not what, and at the same instant Charlie--she knew it was he by the flutter of the ridiculous garb he wore--leapt off the bridge like a hurricane, and tore past her.
He was gone in a second, almost before she had had time to realise his flying presence; and the next moment passengers were streaming up on deck, asking questions, uttering surmises, on the verge of panic, yet trying to ignore the anxiety that tugged at their resolution.
Molly joined the crowd. She was frightened too, badly frightened; but it is always better to face fear in company. So at least says human instinct.
The passengers collected in a restless mass on the upper deck. The captain was seen going swiftly to the bridge. After a brief word with him the first-officer came down to them. He was a pleasant, easy-tempered man, and did not appear in the least dismayed.
"It's all right," he said, raising his voice. "Please don't be alarmed! There has been a little accident in the engine-room. The captain hopes you won't let it interfere with your dancing."
He placed himself in the thick of the strangely dressed crowd. His clean-shaven face was perfectly unconcerned.
"I'll come and join you, if I may," he said. "The captain allows me to knock off. Will you admit a non-fancy-dresser?"
He led the way below, calling for the orchestra as he went. The frightened crowd turned and followed as if in this one man who spoke with the voice of authority protection could be found. But they hung back from dancing, and after a pause the first-officer seized a banjo and proceeded to entertain them with comic songs. He kept it up for a while, and then Mrs. Langdale went nobly to his assistance and sang some Irish songs. One or two other volunteers presented themselves, and the evening's entertainment developed into a concert.
The tension relaxed considerably as the time slipped by, but it did not wholly pass. It was noticed that the doctor was absent.
A reluctance to disperse for the night was very manifestly obvious.
About two hours after the first alarm the great ship thrilled as if in answer to some monster touch. The languid roll ceased. The engines started again firmly, regularly, with gradually rising speed. In less than a minute all was as it had been.
A look of intense relief shot across the first-officer's quiet face.
"That means 'All's well,'" he said, raising his voice a little. "Let us congratulate ourselves and turn in!"
"There has been danger, then, Mr. Gresley?" queried Mrs. Granville, a lady who liked to know everything in detail.
Mr. Gresley laughed with an indifference perfectly unaffected. "I believe the engineers thought so," he said. "I must refer you to them for particulars. Anyhow, it's all right now. I am going to tell the steward to bring coffee."
He got up leisurely and strolled away.
There was a slight commotion on the other side of the door as he opened it, a giggle that sounded rather hysterical. A moment later Lady Jane Grey; her head-gear gone, her shorn curls looking absurdly frivolous, walked mincingly into the saloon and subsided upon the nearest seat. She was attended by Captain Fisher, who looked anxious.
"Such a misfortune!" she remarked, in a squeaky voice that sounded, somehow, a horrible strain. "I have been shut up in the Tower and have only just escaped. I trust I am not too late for my execution. I'm afraid I have kept you all waiting."
All the heaviness of misgiving passed out of the atmosphere in a burst of merriment.
"Where on earth have you been hiding?" shouted Major Granville. "I believe you have been playing the fool with us, you rascal."
"I!" cried Charlie. "My dear sir, what are you thinking of? If you were to breathe such a suspicion as that to the captain he would clap me in irons for the rest of the voyage."
"You have been in the engine-room for all that," said Mrs. Langdale, whose powers of observation were very keen. "Look at your skirt!"
Charlie glanced at the garment in question. It was certainly the worse for wear. There were some curious patches in the front that had the appearance of oil stains.
"That'll be all right!" he said cheerfully. "I had a fright and tumbled upstairs. Skirts are beastly awkward things to run away in, aren't they, Mrs. Langdale? Well, good-night all! I'm going to bed."
He got up with the words, grinned at everyone collectively, picked up the injured skirt with exaggerated care, and stepped out of the saloon.
Mrs. Langdale looked after him, half-laughing, yet with a touch of concern.
"He looks queer," she remarked to Molly, who was standing by her. "Quite white and shaky. I believe something has happened to him. He has hurt himself in some way."
But Molly was feeling peculiarly indignant at that moment, though not on account of her ruined skirt.
"He's a silly poltroon!" she said with emphasis, and walked stiffly away.
Charlie Cleveland had recovered from his serious fit even sooner than she had thought possible; and, though she had made it sufficiently clear to him that as a serious suitor he was utterly unwelcome, she was intensely angry with him for having so swiftly resumed his customary gay spirits.


IV

"Come! What happened last evening? We want to know," said Major Granville, in his slightly overbearing manner. "I saw you with the second engineer this morning, Fisher. I'm sure you have ferreted it out."
"I am not at liberty to pass on my information," responded Fisher stolidly. "You wouldn't understand it if I did, Major. There was danger and there was steam. Two of the engineers had their arms scalded, and one of the stokers was badly hurt. I can't tell you any more than that."
"Do you go so far as to say that the ship herself was in danger?" asked Major Granville. He was talking loudly, as was his wont, across the smoking saloon.
"I should say so," said Fisher, without lifting his eyes from the magazine he was deliberately studying.
"Where is young Cleveland this morning?" asked the Major abruptly.
Fisher shrugged his shoulders.
"He was in his bunk when I saw him last. Heaven knows what he may be up to by now."
Charlie Cleveland strolled in at this juncture. He had his right arm in a sling.
"Hullo!" he said. "How are you all? I'm on the sick-list to-day. I sprained my wrist when I fell up the steps yesterday."
Fisher glanced at him for a moment over the top of his magazine and resumed his reading in silence.
"Look here, my friend!" he said. "You were in the thick of this engine business. I am sure of it."
"I was," said Charlie readily. "But for me you would all be at the bottom of the sea by this time."
He threw himself into a chair with a broad grin at Major Granville's contemptuous countenance and took up a book.
Major Granville looked intensely disgusted. It was scarcely credible that a passenger could have penetrated to the engine-room and interfered with the machinery there, yet he more than half believed that this outrageous thing had actually occurred. He got up after a brief silence and stalked stiffly from the saloon.
Charlie banged down his book with a yell of laughter.
"Didn't I tell you, Fisher?" he cried. "He's gone to have a good, square, face-to-face talk with the captain. But he won't get anything out of him. I've been there first."
He went up on deck and found a party of quoit-players. Molly Erle was among them. Charlie stood and watched, yelling advice and encouragement.
"Looking on as usual?" the girl said to him presently, with a bitter little smile, as she found herself near him.
He nodded.
"I'm really afraid to speak to you to-day," he said. "Your skirt will never again bear the light of day."
"What happened?" she said briefly.
The game was over, and they strolled away together across the deck.
"I'll tell you," he said, with ill-suppressed gaiety in his voice. "We should all have been blown out of the water last night if it hadn't been for me. Forgetful of my finery, I went and--looked on. The magic result was that I saved the situation, and--incidentally, of course--the ship."
He stopped.
"You don't believe me?" he said abruptly.
Her lip curled a little.
"Do you really expect to be believed?" she said.
"I don't know," he said; "I thought it was the usual thing to do between friends."
"I was not aware--" began Molly.
He broke in with a most disarming smile.
"Oh, please," he said. "I don't deserve that--anyhow. I'm awfully sorry about the skirt. I hope you'll let me bear the cost of the damage. I've got into hot water all round. Nobody will believe I'm seriously sorry, though it's a fact for all that. Don't be hard on me, Molly, I say!"
There was a note of genuine pleading in the last words that induced her to relent a little.
"Oh, well, I'll forgive you for the skirt," she said. "I suppose boys can't help being mischievous, though you are nearly old enough to know better."
She looked at him as she said it. His face was comically penitent. Somehow she could not quarrel with the lurking smile in his merry eyes. He was certainly a boy. He would never be anything else. But Molly did not realise this, and she was still too young herself to have appreciated the gift of perpetual youth had she been aware of its existence.
"That's right!" said Charlie cheerily. "And perhaps"--he spoke cautiously, with a half-deprecatory glance at her bright face--"perhaps--in time, you know--you will be able to forgive me for something else as well."
"I think the less we say about that the better," remarked Molly, tilting her chin a little.
"All right!" said Charlie equably. "Only, you know"--his voice was suddenly grave--"I was--and am--in earnest."
Molly laughed.
"So far as in you lies, I suppose?" she said indifferently. "I wonder if you ever really did anything worth doing in your life, Mr. Cleveland."
"I wish you would call me Charlie!" he said impulsively. "Yes. I proposed to you last night. Wasn't that worth doing?"
She drew her brows together in a quick frown, but she made no reply. Fisher was drifting towards them. She turned deliberately, her head very