Under the Big Dipper

by Desiderius George Dery

In the saloon Mr. Morton was duly presented to the ladies at the Captain’s table and to a few of the gentlemen to whom he had not been introduced the evening before in the “smoker.”

The Hon. Mrs. Fitzhugh sarcastically remarked that there were still some men who were old-fashioned enough to remain on deck with the ladies after dinner—denying themselves their whiskey and soda. The men thus referred to tried to look pleased, but those who had sinned did not seem to mind the lady’s sarcasm.

Captain Pollard was evidently taking great pains to impress those sitting around the table that Mr. Morton was a man of importance. He singled him out in conversation and gave marked attention to what the traveler said. On a liner everyone takes his cue from the captain, and the American immediately became a full fledged member of the select coterie.

Mr. Morton frankly and almost boyishly admitted his delight at being once more in civilized surroundings. He smilingly pleaded guilty to an enjoyment of the society of ladies and hoped that his manners had not deteriorated. The ladies were charmed with him. He was good to look at and his pleasant voice and delightfully sympathetic smile won them over completely. His ignorance of the news of the day afforded them an opportunity for further conversation, and he listened with an old-world courtesy that only educated Americans show to their women. The ladies lionized him.

To the many inquiries about his adventures in the desert, he answered good-naturedly and in a rather off-hand way. Life in the desert had its interesting side and the months he had spent there had enabled him to gather valuable data which he expected to apply to work in the Great Basin of his own country, where his father and the federal government were interested in the question of irrigation. There had not been much danger in his adventures, for the natives were human and rather helpful than otherwise.

As he sat at table enjoying anew the amenities of civilized society, Morton confessed to himself that really the most important thing to him was the stimulating and pleasant expectation of being soon home again among his own people, with his dear mother and fine-souled, humor-loving father. How pleased and happy they would be to have him with them again! How jolly to sit once more in the cozy den, his friends and loved ones listening to his tales of adventure! Unconsciously his mind wandered to scenes of his intimate family circle. When the longing heart travels homeward, the half-way inns are but little conveniences on the journey; we take advantage of them because we must; always the heart’s eye looks longingly forward to its goal—home. His little sister—by George, she would be a young woman now, like the blue-eyed, clear-skinned English girl across the table, and better looking, if the promise of earlier remembrance was to be fulfilled. Two years do make a great change!

Yes—he must stop off at Paris for a couple of days and buy his sister and mother something worth bringing home. His heart grew warm as he pictured their happy eyes and heard their pleased exclamations. And his father! Won’t the governor be proud of the reports he was bringing back. Figures don’t lie, his father used to say. And what else should he bring him? Yes—he would have to go to London, too.

He hoped the fine old Nubian sarcophagus which he had shipped by stealth from Assab by the old rascal Ben Bandar (the old chap surely dealt in slaves on the sly) on a Greek sailing vessel had reached New York safely. What would his neighbor, Sir Balingbroke, have said if he knew that the Egyptian custom-house servants were the same old grafters they had been before Alexandria was bombarded and the Khedive all powerful on the Nile?

Almost with a start he awoke to his surroundings, mumbling some words of apology for his absent-mindedness. Mrs. Fitzhugh had addressed some remarks to him—Miss Muriel’s eyes were dancing as she smiled wickedly at him. Mrs. Fitzhugh haughtily forgave him.

This meeting at the table was the type of many others which took place during the next days, varied with some small talk on deck, and broken by some lengthier and more interesting conversations in the smoking room.