XVI
COURAGE VERSUS FOOLHARDINESS
WHILE yet thinking about Adele, Paul stood near the stern of the vessel, overlooking the foamy roadway produced by the constantly revolving propeller; he noticed the rapid progress made by the ship which bore him onwards. Looking outwards his thoughts at first turned hopefully towards the future—towards the region to which they were going; but soon, very soon, that which was before his very eyes drew his mind towards the past, suggested by the boiling wake extending in imagination clear back to the land they had quitted. Yet as a matter of fact it was neither the past nor the future that was just then most urgent with a crucial test for him; he was about to realize that the present is always more urgent and important than either.
Paul stood musing about this luminous pathway which led back to their native land, their home, yet each moment took him farther away from such associations, to meet strangers from whom in the very nature of things he could not expect such spontaneous sympathy as with his own countrymen.
Phosphorescence shone upon the troubled waters, marking the wake of the ship for some distance. The sky clear, and in the sheen of the moonlight details of the white-crested waves could easily be defined. It was one of those glorious evenings when the seascape appears artistically perfect, but cold and unsympathetic. Moonbeams are not inherently sympathetic, they have no warmth, they come not direct from that source of heat and life which gives the vital energy to all material things. But to imagination and in idealization moonbeams may excite or allay fear, and they often give a clearer vision of what sympathy really is, namely, hope and succor when most needed. Nature is always kind if we have the spiritual discernment to appreciate her, but variable according to her own methods.
Paul had but little of the red-hot-heroic in his physical make-up, nor was he especially romantic, but he did have something a great deal better. As often with those of his type, his sound mind in healthy body was supplemented by a keen sense of duty. Moonbeams and romanticism he could joke about, but underneath the jokes he had most decided opinions that a fellow ought to help others when necessity arose, and also his own ideas as to what was practical and what was foolhardy.
While still musing he could not avoid admiring the scene, and spontaneously associating it with one he knew could enjoy it; the picture was complete, ready to be admired. “I think Adele would enjoy it, she ought to see it. The ship is not going too rapidly, so the noise of the propeller amounts to little. I’ll go and find her,” and he turned to seek her whose pleasure was now more to him than heretofore.
Hurrying away, he had taken but a few steps before his attention was arrested by a commotion forward. There were voices, then the rapid patter and scuffling of feet on the deck, then a sharp cry, a cry the most soul-stirring a landsman can hear when in mid-ocean:
“Man overboard!”
“Which side?” exclaimed Paul, spontaneous.
“Port, sir!”