An hour later, when, with all sail set, the Viking had gathered headway before the light land-breeze, taking her first steps into the world, Captain Bradley went to the stern-rail and gazed back at the lessening town. He stood there a long while, lost in thought. He could still make out the familiar pattern of streets and houses. Home. It seemed to him as if he had always been either leaving or returning. His short, quick boyhood was already half-forgotten, like a snatch of another existence. Five years before, his mother had died there in the town; he had received the news on his arrival in Singapore. His father had vanished in a sea tragedy long before he could remember. No home for him remained, either there or here; he would have to make one. What was this seafaring life, that he had now asked a young girl to share? Every day he heard men call it a dog's life, growl that the game wasn't worth the candle. Perhaps so—but she knew all about it. She had been born in a ship's cabin; she loved the sea. And here was the Viking, young, strong and beautiful—what better? A fierce determination swept over him to make life worth while, even the life beyond the horizon; to give her a worthy gift, a home of love and happiness, all he had. Any life could be worth while, if full enough of love.
Glancing over his shoulder, to make sure that no one observed him, for it would not do to give his men the materials of a jest, he leaned across the rail and waved his handkerchief toward the town. She would expect it—would be watching with the glasses from that southern window. Sailor women saw the last of their grief; they didn't turn away and hide.
"I'll try to make up for the waiting, Grace" he whispered; then swung forward resolutely, to face the coming years.
II
Autumn returned to the old seaport, and with it the Viking, back from her first China voyage. Captain Bradley was welcomed with a hearty "well done" The voyage had been prosperous; the homeward run from Hong Kong had been made in the remarkably fast time of eighty-two days. Hereafter the Viking would be a favourite among Chinese shippers.
A month after his arrival, young Captain Bradley was married in the high house fronting the bay. That night he and his wife left town to join the ship, loading in New York for Yokohama.
Then began ten happy years of life. They were the last ten years of American maritime prosperity, the close of the sailing ship era. Charters were plentiful; the Viking made money. Captain Bradley found himself a man of means. Without question, he invested his earnings in ship-property; most of the transactions passed through Captain Marshall's hands. Why not put his money into ships? Ships had been his life and the life of five generations before him, had made him a good living, had taught him all he knew. Most of his friends were doing the same thing. Few there were in those days among the old shipping people, who saw into the next quarter-century, who realized the nature and magnitude of the coming change.
One year, five thousand dollars went to build a new house in the home town. Every captain built a new house, whether he used it or not. Captain Bradley's house was occupied for the length of one China voyage, while Mrs. Bradley remained ashore and gave birth to a son, their only child. Except for this voyage, she accompanied her husband constantly on the sea. She had been reared to the life of wind and wave. In the Viking's spacious and comfortable cabin, they made their home from year to year. Their son passed his boyhood on ship-board. He was the apple of his father's eye. Captain Bradley invariably spoke of him as "my Frankie" with a note of pride and affection in his voice. Sturdy and manly, the little boy filled the ship with the interest and activity of childhood.
On a quiet evening in the trade winds, when Frankie had placed his mother's deck-chair near the weather rail and crouched beside her, perhaps weaving for her amusement one of the strange fancies of which his head was full, it seemed to Captain Bradley that life had brought him all that a man could desire. A happy wife, a beautiful son, a splendid ship—good times, comfortable circumstances, a pleasant prospect: in youth he had dared to hope for such things, but had not expected to see the hope come true. Now life had given him confidence. He would sit on the weather bitts beside them, dreaming of the future, of that day when their son would be grown up, when he and his wife would retire from the sea.
But the future, in those years, after all seemed unsubstantial; Captain Bradley believed in enjoying the present reality. A large share of the money that he earned he spent. He spent it extravagantly, spent it with a flush hand. In the China ports whither all of his charters led him, there were always a dozen or twenty American vessels lying in the roads. Lavish entertainment went the round of the fleet. "What's a little money, more or less?" Captain Bradley was fond of saying. "Times are good, aren't they? More will come" He was for ever buying pieces of cloisonné and rare porcelain for his empty house at home, silks and embroideries for his wife; things to be packed away in camphor wood chests after she was dead. The habit of extravagance grew upon him; he spent more money than he realized.