“I don't think much of Christians who are so hard to discover,” Laura said with decision; and Mrs. Simpson, rebuked, thought of the mischievous nature of class prejudices. Laura herself—had she not been drawn from what one might call distinctly the other end of the ship?—and who, among those who vaunted themselves ladies and gentlemen, could compare with Laura! The idea that she had shown a want of sympathy with those dear people who were so strenuously calling down a blessing on the Coromandel somewhere behind the smoke stacks, embittered poor Mrs. Simpson's remaining tears of farewell, and when the bell rang the signal for the last good-bye, she embraced her young friend with the fervent request, “Do make friends with them, dear one—make friends with them at once”; and Laura said, “If they will make friends with me.”
By the time the ship had well got her nose down the coast of Spain, Miss Filbert had created her atmosphere, and moved about in it from end to end of the quarter-deck. It was a recognisable thing, her atmosphere, one never knew when it would discharge a question relating to the gravest matters; and persons unprepared to give satisfaction upon this point—one fears there are some on a ship bound east of Suez—found it blighting. They moved their long chairs out of the way, they turned pointedly indifferent backs, the lady who shared Miss Filbert's cabin—she belonged to a smart cavalry regiment at Mhow—went about saying things with a distinct edge. Miss Filbert exhausted all the means. She attempted to hold a meeting forward of the smoking cabin, standing for elevation on one of the ship's quoit buckets to preach, but with this the captain was reluctantly compelled to interfere on behalf of the whist-players inside. In the evening, after dinner, she established herself in a sheltered corner and sang. Her recovered voice lifted itself with infinite pathetic sweetness in songs about the poverty of the world and the riches of heaven; the notes mingled with the churning of the screw, and fell in the darkness beyond the ship's lights abroad upon the sea. The other passengers listened aloof; the Coromandel was crowded, but you could have drawn a wide circle round her chair. On the morning of the fourth day out—she had not felt quite well enough for adventures before—she found her way to the second-class saloon, being no doubt fully justified of her conscience in abandoning the first to the flippancies of its preference.
In the second-class end the tone was certainly more like that of Plymouth. Laura had a grateful sense of this in coming, almost at once, upon a little group gathered together for praise and prayer, of which four or five persons of both sexes, labelled “S. A.,” naturally formed the centre. They were not only praying and praising without discouragement, they had attracted several other people who had brought their chairs into near and friendly relation, and even joined sometimes in the chorus of the hymns. There was a woman in mourning who cried a good deal—her tears seemed to refresh the Salvationists and inspire them to louder and more cheerful efforts. There was a man in a wide, soft felt hat with the malaria of the Terai in the hollows under his eyes; there was a Church Missionary with an air of charity and forbearance, and the bushy-eyed colonel of a native regiment looking vigilant against ridicule, with his wife, whose round red little face continually waxed and waned in a smile of true contentment. It was not till later that Laura came to know them all so very well, but her eye rested on them one after another, with approval, as she drew near. Without pausing in his chant—it happened to be one of triumph—without even looking at her, the leader indicated an empty chair. It was his own chair. “Colonel Markin, S. A.” was printed in black letters on its striped canvas back; Laura noticed that.
After it was over, the little gathering, Colonel Markin specially distinguished her. He did it delicately. “I hope you won't mind my expressin' my thanks for the help you gave us in the singin',” he said. “Such a voice I've seldom had the pleasure to join with. May I ask where you got it trained?”
He was a narrow-chested man with longish sandy hair and thin features. His eyes were large, blue, and protruding, his forehead very high and white. There was a pinkness about the root of his nose, and a scanty yellow moustache upon his upper lip, while his chin was partly hidden by a beard equally scanty and even more yellow. He had extremely long white hands; one could not help observing them as they clasped his book of devotion.
Laura looked at him with profound appreciation of these details. She knew Colonel Markin by reputation, he had done a great work among the Cingalese. “It was trained,” she said, casting down her eyes, “on the battlefields of our Army.”
Colonel Markin attempted to straighten his shoulders and to stiffen his chin. He seemed vaguely aware of a military tradition which might make it necessary for him, as a very senior officer indeed, to say something. But the impression was transitory. Instead of using any rigour he held out his hand. Laura took it reverently, and the bones shut up, like the sticks of a fan, in her grasp. “Welcome, comrade!” he said, and there was a pause, as there should be after such an apostrophe.
“When you came among us this afternoon,” Colonel Markin resumed, “I noticed you. There was something about the way you put your hand over your eyes when I addressed our Heavenly Father that spoke to me. It spoke to me and said, 'Here we have a soul that knows what salvation means—there's no doubt about that.' Then when you raised a Hallelujah I said to myself, 'That's got the right ring to it.' And so you're a sister in arms!”
“I was,” Laura murmured.
“You was—you were. Well, well—I want to hear all about it. It is now,” continued Colonel Markin, as two bells struck and a steward passed them with a bugle, “the hour for our dinner, and I suppose that you too,” he bent his head respectfully towards the other half of the ship, “partake of some meal at this time. But if you will seek us out again at the meeting between four and five I shall be at your service afterwards, and pleased,” he took her hand again, “PLEASED to see you.”