Again Roy had to admit to himself that what seemed impossible had once more been achieved and that it had been accomplished by the captain. Lovable he was not. But something about him was so big and strong, so dominating, so overpowering, that his spirit seemed to communicate itself to those around him. Roy had often heard of magnetism, without exactly understanding what it was. Now that he actually saw it, he did not recognize it as magnetism. All he knew was that the captain, when aroused, seemed so utterly to dominate those about him that they became for the time being infused with his own spirit. And that spirit simply would not admit the possibility of failure. To Captain Lansford the word “if” was unknown.
Long before the loading was completed the last passenger was aboard, and there was nothing to prevent the Lycoming from casting off on the stroke of the hour. As sailing time approached, Roy once more found himself busy. As usual, there were messages to send for passengers and more or less routine work to be done in connection with the departure of the ship itself.
By this time Roy’s shyness was beginning to wear off. On the trip down he had purposely kept aloof from passengers, and except for the first officer, the chief engineer, and the purser, he had made few friends. Now he felt more at home. He had become familiar with his duties and his position. He knew what was expected of him. Naturally of a friendly disposition, he was glad that his position permitted him to know the various members of the crew and the passengers. Of the men in the fire-room and the sailors he saw little; but he now tried to cultivate the acquaintance of the other officers and of some of the passengers. His sunny disposition and natural brightness soon made him a general favorite. Had it not been for the captain’s uncompromising attitude toward him, Roy would have been quite happy. He felt that he was succeeding in his work, and he could feel that those about him liked him. But it still hurt him to think that the purser had failed him.
On the first day out Roy was late in answering the dinner call. As he passed the captain’s table, on the way to his own, some one whispered audibly, “There he is now.” A score of persons looked around as Roy made his way to his own seat. Hardly had he settled himself in his chair before the purser’s voice rang out from a near-by table. It was so unlike the pleasant-mannered purser thus to talk in loud tones that Roy was astonished. He paused to listen, as everybody else seemed to be doing.
Distinctly he heard the purser saying, “Yes, sir, saved the ship by his quick wit. The donkey-engine belt was slipping and creating electricity by friction. The broken end of a metal cotton bale strap swaying close to the belt became electrified, and the charge leaped across a break in the strap, like a spark jumping the gap in a spark-plug. There was no end of cotton and hemp fibres swirling about in the wind, and the spark itself occurred in some loose cotton that had bulged out of the bale when the metal strap broke. It was broad daylight and nobody saw the spark but the wireless man. He was watching for it. He knew that sparks would continue to flash as long as the belt kept on generating electricity and that another spark might set the cotton afire. The chief engineer says it’s a miracle that the cotton didn’t catch. If it had, the flames would have spread like lightning with all that loose stuff about and the wind blowing half a gale. Fire would have been in the hold before anybody could have said Jack Robinson, and nothing short of a miracle could have saved the ship. For there was no steam up to fight the flames with. The chief engineer says that if Mr. Mercer hadn’t acted so promptly, the Lycoming would certainly not have been sailing to-day, to say the least.”
During this recital the dining-saloon had become as still as death. Not a knife clinked or a glass tinkled. Every other voice was hushed. The waiters paused in the aisles, trays held aloft, until the purser concluded his recital. Speaking as though to his own table only, the purser was really addressing everybody in the dining-saloon. Every one could hear him plainly and distinctly, including Captain Lansford. Like everybody else he listened carefully, but his face was inscrutable.
When Roy realized that the purser was talking about him his cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He bent his head and kept his eyes fastened on his plate. As the purser continued his story, hot anger came into Roy’s heart. It was quite bad enough for the purser to fail to make an effort to straighten out the matter with Captain Lansford. But for the purser to humiliate him merely for the sake of making a telling story was unforgivable. For Roy could not conceive why the purser should mention the matter before the entire company of passengers unless it were that he wanted to tell a striking story. Angry, confused, embarrassed, Roy wanted to flee from the dining-saloon. But he could not do so without making himself conspicuous. There was nothing to do but go on with his dinner. So angry and confused that he hardly knew what he was putting into his mouth, Roy tried to eat. But no sooner had the purser stopped speaking than scores of eyes were focused on Roy, and from every part of the room complimentary remarks were flung at him. Then somebody cried, “Speech! Let’s hear from Mr. Mercer himself!” The cry was taken up and the dining-saloon rang with the summons, “Speech! Speech! Tell us more about it, Mr. Mercer.”
Roy was paralyzed with embarrassment. He had done nothing remarkable, nothing out of the ordinary, and to be made a hero under such circumstances was humiliating. In fact, in his worriment, Roy had almost come to the conclusion that the captain must be right and that far from being a hero he was only a troublesome meddler.
“Speech! Speech!” continued the cries.