Prince Charlie Part 30

Masters started; was troubled. His pipe was being smoked more vigorously than ever; he continued:

"I am sorry for that."

"Why? I told my girl who was responsible for my salvation. You.... Ah, don't shake your head, Prince. My living, my being here on this deck alive, sane, and, thank G.o.d! with a feeling of manhood strong in me, is due to you. But for you, I should have gone overboard.... Yes, I know it; I want you to know that I know it. I can never repay you, that's out of the region of possibility, but you might like to feel that you took a fellow-creature out of the slough, even if the fellow isn't worth much.

You saved my life and you've made it worth living--to me, at any rate."

He spoke with a catch in his voice; grat.i.tude moved him. So earnest was his speech of thankfulness that it moved Masters also; d.i.c.k went on:

"I came aboard with the knowledge in my heart that I should make a hole in the water. I got my girl up to London, the only friend that has stuck to me, to say good-bye to her. And I meant it, Prince; meant it for a final good-bye, a good-bye for ever. Thanks to you, old chap, that's a thing of the past; the shadow has pa.s.sed away."

"I hope, d.i.c.k--nay, more than hope--I am confident, never to return."

"I pray G.o.d so, Prince! I do! I do! I say that reverently. I pray G.o.d so. I'm a bit fearful of when this trip is over; just a bit; that's all that's wrong with me. You've been my anchor; I don't know how I shall ride on a tempting sea without you. You are not as other men--no, let me say it--I have clung to you, Prince, old fellow, like--well, like the ivy clings to the oak. I can't help thinking, when the oak's gone what's to become of the ivy."

"You'll go back home well, and find other ties."

Then he gave utterance to the phrase which had been persistently ringing in his ears so long:

"You will go back well enough to marry."

d.i.c.k started; smiled. The memory of that last interview came back to him too; he answered:

"That's what my girl says, Prince. But I don't feel at all like marrying: I'm not that sort."

"Not--that--sort!"

It seemed to Masters as if all the blood in his body suddenly turning scalding hot and black-coloured; filled his veins to bursting point. He sat quite still, motionless; fearful that if he moved, loosened for one instant his hold on himself, his feelings would be too much for him.

His trip, his care for d.i.c.k then, was so much labour thrown away.... He must keep that feeling, that desire to rush at the boy's throat and choke his worthless life out, keep it down. Nothing would be gained by loss of temper. It is the cool hammer which fas.h.i.+ons the red-hot iron; he knew that, yet did not dare to look at his companion.

His stylographic pen was not of the best make; perhaps resented being held down so. The ink ran from it and made a blot on the paper. Although conscious of its existence he allowed the size of the blot to increase; still he made no movement.... At last he spoke; spoke so huskily that d.i.c.k looked up from his sketch. The moment he did so, he cried:

"Prince! Good G.o.d, old chap, what's the matter? Prince! Prince! You are ill!"

"I am quite well. Sit down; I am all right I tell you. I want to talk to you."

"Rot!"

The boy scrambled to his feet impatiently, looking in amazement at the white, drawn expression on his companion's face; continued:

"You're ill. Think I am blind? Come to the cabin and lie down."

"Sit down."

"Not for half a second!"

As he answered he was cramming the drawing materials into his pocket; continued:

"If you want to talk come into the cabin and lie down. I'll talk to you there till the doctor comes."

"Doctor! Don't be absurd! I am all right. I want to talk to----"

"Then come right along into the cabin out of this sun; talk there. It's my turn to give orders. I'm going."

He moved away as he spoke, throwing a glance over his shoulders: an anxious look. He was fearing greatly for the man whom he had grown to love.

Masters rose; staggered up really. That hot black blood seemed to rise with him, right up to his brain. Had the effect of making things go whirling round and round for a minute. Then with an immense effort he pulled himself together. Better perhaps in the cabin, out of earshot.

He must have his talk out with Master d.i.c.k.

CHAPTER XXIV

RESTORED SIGHT

d.i.c.k led the way; Masters followed; the cabin was reached. The moment they had entered, the author put his back against the door; spoke with a gravity which alarmed his companion:

"You and I have got to have a talk. Plain talk."

d.i.c.k's anxiety was evidenced in the tone of his voice as he said:

"All right, old son. Cackle for hours if you like. But I wish to goodness you'd lie down and see the doctor first."

Masters disregarded this; considered it a flippant, out-of-place remark; in inconceivably bad taste. Moreover, he was disgusted by d.i.c.k's evasion; by reason of it went himself the straighter to the point:

"We left off on deck at where you were talking of your girl. You said you were--were not of the marrying kind!"

"Eh? Yes, of course I said so. It is so. But what on earth does it matter what I said?"

d.i.c.k still looked anxious. Was making all due allowance for the fact that literary fellows are inclined to be cranks. Yet was doubtful whether the man with his back to the door was not overstepping the limits of legitimate and traditional crankiness.

"It matters a deal!"

Masters uttered these words so fiercely that--in no way relieved--d.i.c.k said:

"Does it? Well then, Prince, old fellow, if you're so anxious about my future as all that, I'll relieve your anxiety. I can truthfully tell you that I have never set eyes on a girl yet that I should be at all likely to marry. Wine's been my trouble, not women."

Once more the black blood surged up; a curtain seemed to come up before Masters' eyes; a thick misty curtain blotting things out. But he knew he must keep his temper in hand; exhibit only calmness. He would gain more that way: for the child's sake--for her sake.

"d.i.c.k." He spoke with all the earnestness in him. "Awhile back you spoke of being grateful to me. Said you would do anything to--to please me."

"So I would, old fellow; so I would. On my soul I would! But I wish to goodness you would lie----"

d.i.c.k's hand was placed soothingly on his companion's shoulder, as he spoke. Masters bore it, but interrupted expression of the wish that he would lie down; said: