CHAPTER VI—MR. DALKEN’S PATERNAL TRAINING
Conversing pleasantly, and smoking one cigar after another, Mr. Dalken offered no cause for one to think he was boiling within, or that he was contemplating a severe correction for his daughter Elizabeth. But Mr. Ashby knew him so well that he would have felt more at ease had his friend expressed a little impatience and annoyance at the unexpected trick played by the girl.
The men in the party sat with the owner who drove the great launch through the calm waters, but ever and anon he swerved suddenly to avoid, as he said, reefs of coral hidden by the wavelets. He skirted the coast because they needed to keep a watchful lookout for the yacht which might have anchored at one of the many tiny inlets along the shore, where bootleggers thrived during the great social season in the South.
The yacht’s crew sat in the stern of the boat, but the ladies were comfortably at rest in the small saloon. There was but one absorbing thought and subject for them: what would be Elizabeth’s punishment when her father could judge her heedless act?
After stopping at several small ports, where it seemed likely they would find the White Crest at anchor with other crafts from the winter resorts, the owner of the launch remarked to Captain Blake:
“If they went to Satan’s Kitchen, they must’a had some wise birds along. Only the old hands dare go there and get their drinks. And the stuff is rank pizen, at that! Nuthin’ but liquid fire. Two or three young fools got knocked out by taking this bootlegger’s vile whiskey, and one feller cashed in his checks.”
The Captain made no reply, but it was not necessary.
“Satan’s Kitchen is a coupla miles in an inlet what dips in from the shore line at Delray. We won’t be able to see the yacht from outside, but that’s whar we’re bound to find the runaways, I’m thinking.”
“All right—drive in and we’ll soon know,” ordered Mr. Dalken, taking command for the first time since leaving Palm Beach.
Shortly after this the launch made a graceful curve and chugged carefully through shallow waters until it came to the narrow inlet mentioned by the captain of the boat. Having gone a very short distance inside this inlet, those on deck soon saw the White Crest anchored near a strip of glistening sandy beach. A rough pier of old planks ran out to the deep water in order to accommodate those who wished to land. Here the launch stopped.
“No, take us to the yacht. I wish to see my guests safely on board my own boat, and the crew in their places. Then if the other party is still on shore you may carry me back to this pier,” commanded Mr. Dalken.
Without any confusion or other sound than the subdued chug of the engine of the launch, the transfer of the party was made. Only the few sailors who had been left on the yacht that evening were found on board, so Mr. Dalken got back into the launch and was about to start for the pier when Mrs. Courtney urged Mr. Ashby to go with him.
“You see, no one can tell what may happen in such a place as this Satan’s Kitchen. Dalky is cool now, but what may he be should he find cause for chastising the men who dared to plan this runaway?”
Therefore, without asking his friend’s consent, Mr. Ashby jumped back into the launch and the boat started away. Those left on board the yacht learned that the Captain had orders to start out at once, and wait about half a mile off the shore. The launch would pick up the yacht there and transfer the owner and his friend.
To the anxious group of friends on the yacht it seemed that a long time had elapsed before they could hear the chugging of the returning launch, but in reality it was hardly half an hour from the time that Mr. Dalken and his friend Ashby had left the White Crest before they returned. Elizabeth Dalken was with them, but not a sign of any one of her companions on the recent excursion was to be seen.
Elizabeth, in moody silence, ran up the steps and went directly to her room. Mr. Dalken paid the owner of the launch and said in a tone that carried its own pointed meaning: “You comprehend that I am paying you for the hire of this craft until noon to-morrow?”
ELIZABETH, IN MOODY SILENCE, RAN UP THE STEPS.
“I get you, Boss,” returned the man, bowing seriously. “Anyway, even if you were not so generous in your pay, I have no likings for such passengers who know better but act like sots.”
“All right. Start back for Palm Beach. I’ll follow in your wake.” So saying Mr. Dalken stepped aboard his own craft and waved the owner of the launch to proceed northward on his return trip.
Mr. Ashby said not a word of explanation to the curious friends waiting on deck, but Mr. Dalken spoke freely as if they were entitled to the story.
“We found just about the sort of scene as I expected to see at that den. Those men in the party, easily ten years my senior, only used the hare-brained divorcee and the younger girls as a means to obtain their end—that of running my yacht to the place where they knew they could get all the vile liquor they craved. Once there, they never gave a thought as to how their companions might fare. Hence I took my girl and left them to work it out as they saw best. There is no trolley or other transportation method of leaving the place, other than by boat or automobile, and of the latter there was none to be hired. I may have been a bit severe on the other young women in the party, but they should have taken all favorable conditions into consideration before they consented to run away with another man’s valuable property, in order to satisfy an abnormal curiosity about a notorious locality. I am thankful to say that I have saved my property from the scandal which would be sure to follow on the heels of a scrape such as those men I saw at Satan’s Kitchen are certain to rouse at one of their orgies. Now, however, it will be necessary for me to return to Palm Beach and prove that my yacht and my friends were anchored at the wharf till morning, and that Elizabeth and I were at the hotel at the dance.”
Mr. Dalken excused himself after concluding his explanation, and went to his daughter’s room to escort her to the hotel.
The interested colored man who had given Mr. Dalken the valuable information regarding the men who had taken possession of the White Crest without the owner’s consent or knowledge, now watched curiously as Mr. Dalken and his daughter left the craft and walked in the direction of the hotel.
The crowds were already thinning out on the ball-room floor, but enough representatives of society still remained to dance to the last note of the orchestra. As fortune had it, one of Mr. Dalken’s well-known friends and his family was present and saw the financier as soon as he stepped upon the floor to dance with Elizabeth.
“There’s Dalken and his daughter—remember we had him to dinner in Washington when I first took my Seat?” whispered the gentleman to his wife.
A reporter for a New York paper stood near and overheard the remark. Instantly he made a note of it and drew nearer to his source of information. He heard the Representative speak of the White Crest and the cruise, and he decided to look up the yacht and its owner in the morning.
Not a word was spoken between Mr. Dalken and his daughter after they left the hotel and boarded the yacht. No one was in sight on deck and the owner accompanied Elizabeth to her room and went in behind her. Then he closed the door and turned to have a word with her.
He spoke tenderly at first, but she ignored him completely and refused to answer his questions. Finally he said sternly: “Elizabeth, I wish you to answer my questions in regard to this escapade.”
“Well, I don’t care if you do! I do not have to speak to you unless I wish to!” snapped she.
“I am your father, and I represent your guardian in the law. I am responsible, to a certain extent, for all your wrong-doings, hence I demand that you tell me how you came to go to that vile den where I found you with those despicable men.”
Elizabeth stared defiantly at her father, then she remarked: “You may demand, but I do not need to reply.”
Mr. Dalken then tried to show her what a risk she had taken in going to a place where a murder or other crime was apt to happen at any moment if one of the habitues became too drunk to control himself.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyelids and looked at her father in a manner that reminded him unpleasantly of her mother whenever she had been cornered in a scandalous situation. Then the girl spoke drawlingly.
“You are such a fossil when it comes to social matters! Why, there isn’t a girl I know who would not give her head to have been in my shoes to-night. But how can you know that two of those men are the finest catches of the season. Henri Aspinwall is a multi-millionaire from South America, and James Stickney is one from New York. I had both of them at my feet this evening, and then you came to ruin my prospects of a proposal!” Elizabeth actually wept tears of mortification at her father’s untimely appearance in Satan’s Kitchen.
Mr. Dalken gasped in sheer unbelief. “Do you mean to say you knew those two men? Did you know they were divorced by their wives for their disreputable living?”
“How silly you are! Reputations are nothing in these liberal times, because divorce is so convenient. Those two men have money and the most charming personalities. That is why their wives can’t live with them—they are generally so shabby looking and are fiercely jealous of the attentions paid their husbands by appreciative women. Naturally, men like Henri or James are too popular for their fogy wives, hence the divorces, you know!”
“Why, Elizabeth, you are positively shocking! I cannot believe you are not yet twenty and my own child! Where have you acquired all this nightmare of experience in such things?” Mr. Dalken’s voice trembled with emotion over the girl’s short-comings.
“Really, father, one might think you were a saint, from the way you are trying to preach to me!” sneered Elizabeth.
“Far be it from me to pose as a saint, but at least I know I am a clean-minded man, and I demand that my daughter act as a young lady should, while she is in my charge,” was Mr. Dalken’s stern reply.
“I suppose you would invite me to model my behavior after such country clods as Miss Brewster, or take for my example such flippant nobodies as Eleanor Maynard from Chicago?” scorned Elizabeth, tossing her head. “Why, I knew them both at school in New York, and I must say that not a girl in society would deign to cast a glance at either of them now. They are absolutely too impossible to stand on any rung of the social ladder, and not even the commonest plane of society in New York would consider them.”
“I am ashamed to hear you say so. It goes to prove how low the social standard has fallen. In fact, I may add, that the standard of a once decent period must have been dragged through the mire, of late times, to present such views as you entertain as its highest aspirations.” Mr. Dalken’s words were cutting and Elizabeth resented them.
“Well, I am sorry to remind you, sir, that men who can shamelessly turn their backs upon the obligations of a wife and daughter and go after such women as you prefer to call your friends, are the very ones who smirch society’s fair standard and then stand up and denounce it as having fallen.”
Sheer astonishment and shocked soul of Mr. Dalken kept him silent after Elizabeth concluded her statement. Finding he failed to reply, she added sarcastically:
“If my dear mother but knew the type of woman she might have to call her successor to such marital felicity as you deprived her of when she called herself Mrs. Dalken, she would not concern herself to save you from such a degradation!”
Finally Mr. Dalken found his powers of speech. “What under the sun are you driving at, you little vixen!”
Elizabeth tossed her head and laughed a harsh, cold laugh. “How innocent we are, eh, Dad? To hear you now, and to see you with Mrs. Courtney when others are about one would say you two were not enjoying the tête-à-têtes she so wisely plans for you. But how can one expect anything otherwise? You left mother in order to live your life of selfish pleasure, and this woman turned her back on her husband and her own country, because she could no longer appear in decent society in London, and now it seems quite natural for you two to find mutual consolation in the companionship of each other. Poor Mamma!”
As Elizabeth spoke, Mr. Dalken got upon his feet and stood with head held high. The moment she had concluded, she glanced spitefully up at him, but his expression cowed her for a moment. When he found his voice he said coldly, but with dire meaning for the girl:
“You will see to it that your luggage is ready to leave this yacht in the morning. You may return to New York to your ‘poor mamma’ as soon as possible, and tell her that no further allowances are to be expected from me, and henceforth no machinations from her will be allowed to be tried on me. I shall call upon the law to defend me from future attacks, both personally and in every other way. I will bid you good-morning, Elizabeth, and I will look for you directly after breakfast.” With that Mr. Dalken left the girl alone.
“Well, thank heavens, he is gone!” grumbled Elizabeth to herself, as the door closed upon her father’s heels. Then she calmly removed her lovely gown and threw it upon the floor and suddenly stamped upon it. Such a squall of temper in one who, a moment before had seemed calm, was surprising.
“The nasty wasp! How I hate her sweet smile and honeyed words. As if she could fool me with her acting! Why, not a woman I know pretends to be so gracious and altogether wonderful as that horrid Courtney!” But Elizabeth failed to take into consideration that, when one lived in earnest, no acting could seem as real as the genuine thing.
“Well, I shall be well rid of this Sunday-school group!” continued the girl, as she sat down and pulled off her satin slippers and beautiful, embroidered, silk stockings. “Once I get my things off the yacht and am located in one of the nice suites at the Hotel, I shall lay my plans for the conquest of James Stickney. Oh, won’t mother squeal with joy when she hears of my conquest! To be Mrs. Stickney and spend his money will be worth all the dreadful days I have had to waste on board this boat!”
Thus, as she disrobed and prepared for bed, Elizabeth smiled even while she planned her social campaign at Palm Beach during the time which would elapse until she heard from her mother.
But Elizabeth never dreamed of the actual plan she would be compelled to accept on the morrow. She had no idea that her father meant exactly what he had said when he threatened never to contribute more to her ease-loving support and the monthly bills which seemed beyond all reason to him. Hitherto he had paid all accounts without a protest.
Had she dreamed that she was to be packed off for New York under the chaperonage of Anne Brewster and her husband, with no opportunity to send word to her friends at Palm Beach, and without a dollar in her pocket with which to wire her mother of her ignominious treatment—such it was in her estimation—she might have tried to escape that very night.
Not long after nine o’clock in the morning, therefore, Mr. Dalken was asked to see the reporter and tell him such items of personal news as would interest the readers of the New York daily. Contrary to precedent, Mr. Dalken invited the man to breakfast with him while he told him a long story. How he was taking this cruise with his intimate friends for a rest and his health. How he had persuaded his daughter to accompany them as far as Palm Beach, and how he danced with her even to the last waltz at the hotel. Then he spoke regretfully of how she would have to return to New York that day, as social interests could not spare her for a continued cruise. “Oh, yes! Of course she will be accompanied on the journey. Our very dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. Brewster, part owners in Choko Gold Mines, you know, are also going North with their friend, Mr. Latimer. I had all I could do to get these three friends to come as far as Palm Beach with us. Now they and my daughter cannot give us another day.”
“The rumor got started in some strange way that a party of undesirable guests at the hotel captured your yacht and daughter and sailed away to Satan’s Kitchen last night,” ventured the reporter. “Did you know of the escapade, or were they back before you found it out?”
“My dear fellow! Of what are you speaking? I can prove conclusively that we arrived at the hotel in time for dinner and that we remained until the very last dance. Why, I met an old friend in the ball-room just as I was about to leave. Members of my party left at different times during the evening, but they are free to go and come as they choose while we are on this cruise, you know.”
Mr. Dalken was all guileless confidence with the reporter and that worthy felt sure the report had been started as a bit of scandal in high life. Then his host suddenly seemed to remember an item which might explain such a sorry story.
“Perhaps that twisted version of the matter started because we had planned to sail away after midnight, leaving the four in my party to go back to New York to-day. But they all remained dancing to such an hour that it seemed absurd for any one to pack their bags and leave the yacht at that hour, so I advised all to sleep late and the yacht would wait till at dawn as had been planned.
“You see, my friends heartily enjoyed the hospitality of your magnificent hotels to such an extent that they are all fast asleep in their rooms. I am the only early bird on deck this morning, but then I only danced a few dances with my daughter just before the orchestra said good-night.”
The reporters smiled politely and secured a few treasured items of social interest regarding the dances Mr. Dalken preferred, and the hour he left the ball-room with his friends, and anything else he might care to tell them for publication.
He shook his head. “Nothing happens when one sails on a friendly little voyage with choice companions—that is, anything of interest to society; because no one in my party belongs to society and we never bother about its concerns. But, my dear young men, I am now deeply concerned in getting off on our cruise, and you must really excuse me from continued conversation, unless you care to be carried to Havana with us.”
The reporters, having secured all the information they were after, obediently bid their host good-morning and left the yacht. Once they were safely out of the way, Mr. Dalken had the chef serve breakfast on deck for those who would get up and eat.
John and Anne Brewster, Tom Latimer and Polly, and Mrs. Courtney were the only ones to respond to the call. The former three guests were dressed for travel, and Polly was up in order to say a last goodby to her family members and to Tom. Mrs. Courtney was an early riser no matter what time she went to sleep and she now seemed as bright and fresh as if she had had the usual quota of sleep instead of but four hours at the dawning of the day.
Immediately after breakfast Mr. Dalken gave Anne a sealed letter and said impressively: “Now remember, my dear Mrs. Brewster, to follow all my instructions to the letter, whether Elizabeth wishes it or not. She is still in my charge, even though I appoint you a deputy to guard her till she is placed safely in her mother’s care once more. I do not anticipate any rebellion before she reaches New York, but she may decide to bolt once she finds herself on familiar ground again. However, I made it quite plain to her last night, that she is the arbiter of her own future if she disobeys me in one least thing after being placed in your care.”
Thus Polly learned to her amazement that Elizabeth was destined to leave the yacht and return in disgrace to her mother. But the news did not cause any regret, rather did it make her rejoice that dear Dalky would be freed from such a thorn in his side for the rest of the trip.
Mrs. Courtney maintained an inscrutable expression that defied Polly’s reading of her thoughts. Whether she had known of this plan to send Elizabeth back to New York when Anne Brewster went, or whether the news surprised her even as it had Polly, could not be said. But Polly met Tom’s eyes and saw a gleam of relief there.
The breakfast ended and a member of the crew who had been despatched on shore to ascertain exactly when the Washington Express would leave, now came on deck and saluted. He handed his employer a paper, and Mr. Dalken turned to John and Tom.
“The car is waiting at the end of the pier. I’ll get my daughter and place her in your charge, then escort you all to the automobile.”
Turning to the sailor, he added: “Jim, did the trunk get off all right?”
“Yes’sa, an’ I expressed it, myself, straight through to Noo York, sa.”
“Very good. Now wait at the foot of the steps till we come.”
Mr. Dalken went away and Polly turned to Mrs. Courtney.
“Don’t you think it will be more agreeable for Dalky if we are not here when he comes back with Elizabeth?”
“Yes, Polly, I agree with you. We will say our goodbys now, friends, and hurry away from here,” replied Mrs. Courtney.
The farewells were not prolonged, therefore, and Tom found he was short-circuited in his plans to have a lover’s tête-à-tête with the girl he adored so devotedly. John and Anne had their good hugs and kisses from Polly, and then she turned quickly to Tom and extended her hand.
“Goodby, Tom, old friend. Take good care of Anne and see that she doesn’t worry herself to a frazzle over Elizabeth Dalken and her social tricks.” With a hasty shake of his hand, Tom found Polly was running away to the rear end of the yacht where she could enter without coming face to face with any one coming from the main door.
Mrs. Courtney had said her farewells and was following Polly when Mr. Dalken came from the door which opened to the saloon. Elizabeth was closely veiled and dressed in a plain tailormade suit. Without a spoken word to any one she went directly to the stairs that led down to the wharf. The other four adults followed her and soon all were seated in the waiting limousine.
Polly could not help peeping out from her retreat at the back entrance to the companionway, and when she saw the automobile drive away she sighed with relief. “There go the two troubles of my life—one whom I despise, and one whom I am not sure about adoring or hating!”
From this honest confession of Polly’s it can be readily surmised that she was not head over heels in love with Tom.
In less than half an hour’s time Mr. Dalken came on board his yacht again and immediately gave orders to sail. Even as the Captain obeyed and placed the distance of a rod or so between the craft and the pier, a sprinting reporter reached the wharf to take a snap-shot of the White Crest.
Mr. Dalken watched him with grim satisfaction. He then murmured to himself: “Well, that’s all you got out of your run!”
Later he remarked casually to Polly and Mrs. Courtney, when they happened to be alone after luncheon: “Our friends just caught the Express as it was about to pull out. The conductor saw us making for it and he very obligingly held up the train a moment. Naturally, no one was present to interview us about this hasty departure for the North, and only one solitary reporter saw me returning in the car. He failed to reach me in time!”
But their host did not add that he had used every influence possible to insure the success of his plan: to reach the train at the very minute of departure, and then see his daughter off before she could get in touch with any friends at Palm Beach. The conductor exchanged a friendly but knowing look with the financier as the four travelers boarded the train, and Mr. Dalken stood watching it pull out.
“Well, children, now we’re off on the second lap of our adventures,” laughingly called Mr. Dalken, as he waited in vain for a remark to his last statement. His happy tone then brought forth glad and eager questionings as to Cuba, Hayti, and the other Isles of the West Indies.