CHAPTER VII
GIBRALTAR
EARLY on the morning of their steamship's first landing during the voyage, Jack came up on deck. She had asked Olive to come with her, but she was at the moment engaged in writing to Miss Winthrop at Primrose Hall, who had become more like her mother than a friend. She promised to join her room-mate in a few moments.
It was an ideal morning, and Jack hoped to have a long look at the sea before the other passengers were about to distract her with conversation. In a short while their steamer was due to pass Cape Trafalgar, where Lord Nelson won his famous victory over the French and Spanish in 1805, and from then on every traveler aboard, except the ill ones, would be crowding about the ship's railing for the best views.
Jack felt wonderfully well. Only a few days more than a week at sea, and how much she had already improved! Not since the winter at the ranch when she was sixteen had she felt so vigorous and had such joy in living. Surely before their trip was over she would be her old self again. And if this part of their journey had been so unusually interesting, what would their trip through Italy mean, with Switzerland and England to follow in May?
"How much of my young heart, O Spain,
Went out to thee in days of yore,
What dreams romantic filled my brain
And summoned back to life again
The paladins of Charlemagne,
The Cid Campeador."
Jack laughed, recognizing the speaker's voice at once.
"I am the wrong person to be quoting poetry to, Captain Madden," she replied, scarcely turning her head. "I told you the other day that Jean and Olive are the literary members of our family. I hardly ever used to read a book, except now and then my school ones, until my accident. Then I took to reading from necessity. I am not in the least clever or romantic, and reading has so often seemed to me like finding out things second-hand. I am afraid I really want to do the exciting things myself."
Jack was hardly looking or thinking of her audience as she talked. One of the nicest things about their new acquaintance was that one was able to say almost anything to him and he would understand. She was feeling curiously gay this morning, as though something of unusual importance was about to happen to her. Of course it was the thought of their first leaving the steamer after nine days of ocean travel. Nevertheless, Jack had dressed with unusual care, not intending to make another toilet before going ashore. Instead of her usual brown steamer coat she was wearing a long, heavy white woolen one, with a soft white hat trimmed in a single feather curling close around the crown. And under the brim her hair was pure bronze in the sunlight and all the old color of the ranch days had this morning come back into her cheeks.
"I am only quoting guide-book poetry," Captain Madden explained, after a moment's admiring glance at his young companion.
Suddenly Jack ceased gazing over the water to look at him. "Captain Madden," she asked with the directness which some persons liked and others disliked in her, "you told us once that you were a British army officer, didn't you? Then would you mind explaining why when you are to show us over the English fort at Gibraltar today, you are not wearing an English officer's uniform?"
If for the fraction of a second there was a slight hesitation before Captain Madden's reply Jack failed to notice it.
"I am very glad you asked me that question, Miss Ralston," he answered, coming to the edge of the ship's railing and leaning one arm upon it as he talked. "I am afraid I have been sailing under false colors with you and the other members of your little party. I simply meant you to understand that I was at one time a member of the British army. Several years ago I resigned my commission. Else, my dear young lady, how do you suppose I could have attempted to run a ranch in your west and been permitted to fight with the Mexicans on the losing side? I am a soldier of fortune or misfortune, whichever way you may choose to put it."
The older man spoke half in jest, but Jacqueline Ralston stared at him in a more critical fashion than she ever had before. Could she have been making a hero in her mind of a man who was no hero at all?
"But I can't understand how a man who has once been in the army could stop being," she remarked slowly.
Her companion shook his head. "No, of course you rich Americans can't understand," he replied. "The fact of the matter was that I did not have money enough to keep up my position. Though I can hardly expect a young American girl with a gold mine at her disposal to realize what a lack of money means."
Jack moved her shoulders impatiently, letting her clear gray eyes rest for the moment upon her companion's profile. He looked a soldier every inch of him and a brave man. Yet what could his confession mean?
"I haven't been a rich American girl always, Captain Madden," she returned. "And I don't know why you think I am one now. But a lack of money would never have made me give up my profession if I cared for it."
It was perfectly self-evident that Jack was feeling a sense of disappointment in her companion. Although they had only known one another for a week, and Captain Madden was so much older, intimacies develop more rapidly aboard ship than anywhere else in the world, except perhaps on a desert island. Jack suddenly realized that she had been giving more thought to her companion's history than there was any reason for doing.
She looked back over her shoulder. Numbers of persons with field glasses in their hands were coming on to the deck.
"Miss Drew and the girls will soon be joining us," she suggested, meaning for Captain Madden to understand that she no longer wished to discuss his personal affairs. "I must go and search for them if they don't come at once. I think I can already see the point of Cape Trafalgar. In a short time we must be entering the Straits of Gibraltar."
The next second Jack started to move away, but a glance from the man at her side held her. It was curious that she, who had never yielded to any one in her life except of her own will, should feel his influence.
"You are only a young girl and I am possibly twice your age," Captain Madden began, "yet our acquaintance aboard ship has been so pleasant that I do not wish to have you misunderstand me. There were other reasons for my leaving the British army, but you may believe this to be the chief one: I am not a good soldier in times of peace. When the Boer war was over, I wanted to be where there was still fighting to be done. My country was weary of war and so I joined the Russians in their war with Japan."
Jack shyly extended her hand. "That is all right, Captain Madden," she replied. "I know Ruth and Olive think it dreadful for me to be interested in fighting. Of course I hope there may never be any more great wars, but—" and here Jack laughed at herself, "to save my life I can't help being interested in battles and heroes who fight on against losing odds. I had a grandfather who was a general in the Confederate army."
And Jack, resting her chin on her hand with her elbow on the balustrade, gazed out to sea, apparently satisfied. Indeed, she was so vitally interested in the view before her that she hardly heard Captain Madden add:
"If your friend, Frank Kent, should ever offer you any other reason for my resignation—" But at this instant Ruth Drew and Olive appeared between them, and Ruth slipped her arm through Jack's. At once Captain Madden stepped aside, surrendering his place to Olive.
It was odd, but as Ruth approached Jack and her companion, for just a passing moment an uncomfortable impression entered her mind. Jack and Captain Madden did seem to be talking together like intimate friends. Perhaps Jean had been justified in her grumbling. Nevertheless, Captain Madden was twice Jack's age, and why should they not be friends? It was as absurd to feel uneasy over them as over Frieda and her chocolate-drop boy.
And hearing Frieda's laugh behind her, the next second, Ruth turned around with a smothered sigh of relief. Here came Frieda in her crimson coat and hat with Dick Grant at her side holding the inevitable box of candy in his hand. Following them were Jean and her Princess.
They were just in time, because the Martha Washington was at this moment entering the Straits of Gibraltar. To the right there loomed, like a gray mirage in the background, the Mountain of the Apes in Africa. And there, directly ahead, was the historic Rock of Gibraltar.
"Isn't it thrilling to have reached a foreign country at last!" Jack exclaimed, turning again to her first companion. But on her other side Frieda pulled at her coat sleeve impatiently.
"If you are going into raptures over everything you see while we are abroad, I don't know what is to become of you, Jacqueline Ralston!" she argued. "Of course the Rock of Gibraltar is fairly large, but I have seen almost as big stones in Wyoming. Have a piece of candy."
And when everybody in the little company laughed, Frieda would have been offended if she had not already grown accustomed to starting just such foolish attacks of laughter. What had she said that was in the least amusing, when she had just made a plain statement of fact? For how could she possibly have guessed how her point of view typified that of many American travelers?