XVII
My expressed faith that Chanler would straighten up now that Miss Baldwin was on board was doomed to early destruction. George had sunk further than his face betrayed, further than any of us had guessed. As a matter of fact this probably was the first time in his life that he had seriously struggled with a big problem, and the struggle had exposed him in a fashion I had not thought possible.
Twice that afternoon he left Miss Baldwin for short runs into his stateroom, and each time he returned vivacious and aggressive. At luncheon he was glum and distrait. Out of regard for Miss Baldwin he had banished liquor from the table and he suffered without it.
Captain Brack was not present at luncheon. He was too occupied between the bridge and the engine-room. Riordan also was absent.
“We are running at our maximum now, yes sir,” said Wilson in reply to a question. “The captain is anxious to hold her so, and he is laying the course himself.”
“Do you know where we are going, Wilson?” I asked.
“No sir. Our course is due north. We should strike somewhere on the Kenai Peninsula, sir.”
“What kind of a country is it there?” asked Betty.
“No country at all, Miss. Entirely unsettled. A rough coast-line.”
“Cappy apparently knows where he’s going,” muttered Chanler.
“Yes sir,” said Wilson.
“And nobody else does.”
“No sir.”
“And that’s what I call a situation to keep a chap from being bored. What do you say, Wilson?”
“I’m not easily bored, sir.”
“You lucky dog!”
“Yes sir,” said Wilson, and excusing himself went out.
When Dr. Olson had done likewise Chanler looked long and lovingly at Miss Baldwin.
“Betty,” he said, as if rousing himself with an effort.
“Yes, George.”
“Betty, don’t you think you were an awful fool to come on a crazy trip like this?”
She smiled as if humoring him.
“Why do you say that, George?”
“Suppose folks should hear about it?”
“What then?”
“Betty—you—all alone on a yacht with me. What’ll folks think if they know?”
“They do know,” she said. “I told my folks and friends where I was going.”
“Yes, but you told them my sister was on board.”
“Certainly—as you told me.”
“Oh, don’t rub it in, Betty. That’s past. But what do you think people will think when they know she wasn’t on board, and that you came ’way up here alone to join me?”
She looked at him steadily. I half rose to leave, but a glance from her eyes told me to remain. It was not a pleasant scene. I stared at my napkin.
“You see, Betty,” he continued, leaning loosely across the table, “that’s what it will look like. Won’t it, Gardy?”
I did not reply.
“What will it look like, George?” she asked evenly.
“Like you were chasing me.”
She laughed, and her laughter was like a song-burst of wholesome young life in the atmosphere of Chanler’s drink-drugged maundering.
“Well, George, isn’t that what I am doing?”
“People will talk, Betty,” he persisted. “It’s a bad situation—for you. I—I’m sorry I got you to come here—no, hang it! I’m not. But I am worrying about your reputation, Betty.”
“I think I can take care of my reputation, George,” she said quietly.
“Let me take care of it, Betty!” he cried hoarsely, taking her hand.
“Please, George,” she said, smiling, as she rose.
“Betty!” He clung to her hand.
With swift, confident strength she drew her hand free, lifting him slightly from his chair in doing so.
“You’ll excuse me now, won’t you?” she said, and went to her room.
Chanler flung himself back in his chair, laughing harshly.
“Did you see that—did you see it, Gardy?” he said, as he pressed the bell. “She doesn’t care if I do own this yacht. I’m nothing to her. Oh, what a rotten trip this is going to be!”
“Chanler,” I said, “sit still for a minute and listen. You have got to pull yourself together. You have got to straighten out this mess. You have got to show Miss Baldwin that you are the man she is hoping to find in you. Buck up, man! Her hopes are pinned on you. She cares. Do you think she would have come this far if she didn’t care? She has done her share; she’s here. Now, for her sake, do your share. Pull yourself together and be the man she has been hoping all this time she would find you.”
“Hooray!” he whispered mockingly. “Go on, Gardy; you’re the boy who can say things. King’s peg,” he said to the steward who had come in.
“Wait!” I said. The man stopped. “Chanler, you’ve been overdoing it. You’re not yourself. You’ve done things that aren’t done; you’ve got to sober up and straighten them out.”
“Got to!”
“Yes; as a gentleman you’ve got to. Miss Baldwin’s happiness—perhaps her whole life’s happiness—depends on your being a gentleman from now on. For God’s sake man! Isn’t it worth sobering up to win a prize like that?”
“Oh, leave me alone, Gardy,” he growled. “Don’t you think I know what I’m doing? It doesn’t make any difference what I do now. I’ve lost her. She wouldn’t have me no matter what I did now. I know it. Knew it five minutes after she came on board. Saw it in her eyes. Felt it. My hold on her’s slipped—just like that. Gone—forever. No use trying. King’s peg,” he repeated, “and hurry.”
I sat silent, rage and disgust choking me, while the man brought in that terrible mixture of champagne and brandy in equal parts. Chanler drank it in gulps.
“Have some, Gardy? No? That’s right. Some men shouldn’t touch rum; you’re one of them. ’Cause why? ’Cause you’ve got a conscience. Rot, rot, rot! Got to straighten up, have I, Gardy? ‘Got to’ are words that weren’t made for me, my boy.”
“For God’s sake! Chanler, drop that sort of talk!” I cried, springing to my feet. “If you knew what a sickening parody you are on the gentleman you were at home, you wouldn’t put on airs.”
“Not to me, Gardy, not to me can you utter such contemptuous words,” he said harshly.
“You be ——, you and your big talk!” I exploded. “Do you think you’re entitled to any respect? Do you think I or any one else on board cares who you are at present? Do you think your money is still a power? Well, it’s not. It ceased to be this morning. Brack and the crew—Brack especially—there’s the power aboard this yacht. And you’re disgracing yourself and your class before them all.
“First you lie by wireless to get Miss Baldwin on board, and now you’re taking the easiest way, keeping drunk, because you’re not man enough to face the situation sober—not man enough to make things right for the girl who came here trustfully depending on you. Think of it, Chanler; think who you are—of your family. Have one more try at decency, at least. Chuck away that poison in your hand and let me call Dr. Olson and get you straightened up.”
He raised the large glass to his lips and drank the peg down without a falter.
“Gardy,” he said, setting the glass down, “you’re fired.”
I laughed.
“I like you, Gardy; you’re a dear old fellow,” he continued, “but you mustn’t presume on our friendship and talk to me like that. I’ve got to let you out.”
“And I suppose I’m to pack my things and go?” said I. “Oh, come, Chanler; wake up. Try to see things with sane eyes. I don’t care whether I’m fired or whether we remain friends. We’re all on the same plane for the present; you, Miss Baldwin, myself, we’re in the hands of Captain Brack and the crew.”
He shuddered nervously.
“Don’t say such things, Gardy; I forbid them in my hearing.”
“You’re afraid to hear them, you mean.”
“Afraid or not, it makes no difference. They annoy me and I won’t be annoyed. I won’t, you hear. Been annoyed enough on this trip. Here I was waiting for Betty’s coming. Felt sure she’d have me if I got her away alone, just herself and me. She comes, looks around. I look in her eyes and bang! I see she won’t have me. Plain as print. Whole trip useless. It’s a rotten world!”
“You’re giving up without a struggle, Chanler?”
“No use, my boy. I don’t like struggling, anyhow.”
“But, Miss Baldwin is, at least your guest, on board your yacht. The yacht is in the hands of Brack and the crew. Haven’t you thought that this situation might develop into one that may be unpleasant and even unsafe for Miss Baldwin?”
“I have,” he said, signaling for another peg. “And I wish I was back home in the big leather chair at the club, looking out on Fifth Avenue.” He waved his hand drunkenly toward me. “I entrust—entrust Miss Beatrice Baldwin—safety, pleasure, honor, rep’tation to you, Gardy. Ha! There’s a bright little idea. I hire you again, Gardy. New job. You—you see Betty safe and sound back to her folks.”
That hour marked the beginning of Chanler’s eclipse. At dinner-time Simmons reported him indisposed. During the next three days he left his room but seldom. He had but one desire now: to eliminate himself as a responsible factor in the storm of events about to break upon the Wanderer and its people.