CHAPTER XXI
Next day was the most eventful I had spent on the yacht in spite of all that had gone before, for a few moments were filled with a peril which we escaped, as one might say, by a miracle, or more accurately by the prompt and energetic action of a capable man whom I shall always regard with deep affection. If Cape Cod has turned out many like him, it is a notable section of a great country.
Somewhat early in the morning I paid my third visit to the Nagasaki Hotel and brought John C. Cammerford with me to the yacht. He told me he had placed the full amount to my credit in the Bank of Japan, and said he did not need to do any cabling to America. Mr. Hemster was closeted with him in his office until the luncheon gong rang, and the amiable Cammerford was a guest at our table, referring to me several times as his old friend, and recounting stories that were more humourous than accurate about my adventures with him in the Adirondack Mountains and the fishing districts of Canada. I gathered that all the stories he had ever heard of Englishmen he now fastened on me, relating them with great gusto as having come within his own cognizance. Therefore I was delighted to be able to inform him that one of his anecdotes had appeared in Punch in the year 1854, which he promptly denied, whereupon I proposed a modest little wager that was accepted by him under the supposition that I could not prove my assertion. But we happened to have in the library two volumes of Punch for that year, which I had frequently thumbed over, and I now confounded him by their production. I don’t think he minded the money so much as the slight cast on what he supposed to be a genuine American joke. About three o’clock the good man left us in a high state of exultation, carried away by the useful naphtha launch.
We were all on deck about four o’clock in the afternoon when the event happened to which I have referred. Hilda and I were sitting in our chairs by the wicker table, quite boldly in the face of all, for our engagement was now public property. Gertrude Hemster and the little Japanese noblewoman were walking up and down the other side of the deck, and from the snatches of conversation wafted to us it really seemed as if Miss Hemster were learning Japanese. She had passed the ignoring phase so far as I was concerned, and had reached the stage of the icily polite and scrupulously courteous high dame, so that I quite looked forward to an intimate interview with her later on if this change continued. The old gentleman occupied his customary armchair with his feet on the rail, and it is a marvellous thing to record that during all the excitement he never shifted his position. He said afterward that it was the captain’s duty to deal with the crisis, and he had absolute confidence in the captain. This confidence was not misplaced.
The harbor of Nagasaki is usually crowded with shipping, and steamers are continually arriving or departing, consequently they attract but little attention, for they are generally capably managed. Of course a yacht swinging at anchor with no steam up is absolutely helpless if some vessel under way bears down upon her. We were lying broadside on to Nagasaki. I was so absorbed in my conversation with Hilda that I did not notice our danger until the captain put a megaphone to his lips and vehemently hailed an oncoming steamer. Looking up, I saw a huge, black, clumsy craft steaming right down upon us, and knew in a moment that if she did not deflect her course she would cut us in two amidships. The captain, who recognized the nationality of the vessel, although I did not, roared down to me:
“What is the Chinese for ‘Sheer off?’”
I sprang to my feet. “Fling me the megaphone,” I cried. He instantly heaved it down to me, and a moment later I was roaring through it a warning to the approaching steamer. But to this not the slightest attention was paid, nor indeed could I see anyone aboard. The black brute came on as if she were an abandoned ship without captain or crew. She appeared to grow up out of the waters; looming tremendous in size above us, and it did seem as if nothing under Heaven could save us. However, good luck and the resources of our captain did that very thing. The good luck assumed the shape of a tug which came tearing past our stern. The captain by this time was on deck with a coil of rope with a bowline on its end. Not a word did he say to the flying tug, but he swung the rope so unerringly that the loop came down like a flying quoit right on the sternpost of the little vessel. In a flash the captain had the end he held twisted twice around a huge iron cleat at our side.
“I sprang forward and caught her.”