The Card, a Story of Adventure in the Five Towns Read online

  CHAPTER V

  THE MERCANTILE MARINE

  I

  The decisive scene, henceforward historic, occurred in the shanty knownas "John's cabin"--John being the unacknowledged leader of thelong-shore population under the tail of Llandudno pier. The cabin,festooned with cordage, was lighted by an oil-lamp of a primitive model,and round the orange case on which the lamp was balanced sat Denry,Cregeen, the owner of the lifeboat, and John himself (to give, as itwere, a semi-official character to whatever was afoot).

  "Well, here you are," said Denry, and handed to Cregeen a piece ofpaper.

  "What's this, I'm asking ye?" said Cregeen, taking the paper in hislarge fingers and peering at it as though it had been a papyrus.

  But he knew quite well what it was. It was a cheque for twenty-fivepounds. What he did not know was that, with the ten pounds paid in cashearlier in the day, it represented a very large part indeed of such ofDenry's savings as had survived his engagement to Ruth Earp. Cregeentook a pen as though it had been a match-end and wrote a receipt. Then,after finding a stamp in a pocket of his waistcoat under his jersey, heput it in his mouth and lost it there for a long time. Finally Denry gotthe receipt, certifying that he was the owner of the lifeboat formerlyknown as _Llandudno_, but momentarily without a name, together withall her gear and sails.

  "Are ye going to live in her?" the rather curt John inquired.

  "Not in her. On her," said Denry.

  And he went out on to the sand and shingle, leaving John and Cregeen tocomplete the sale to Cregeen of the _Fleetwing_, a small cutterspecially designed to take twelve persons forth for "a pleasant sail inthe bay." If Cregeen had not had a fancy for the _Fleetwing_ and aperfect lack of the money to buy her, Denry might never have been ableto induce him to sell the lifeboat.

  Under another portion of the pier Denry met a sailor with a long whitebeard, the aged Simeon, who had been one of the crew that rescued the_Hjalmar_, but whom his colleagues appeared to regard rather as anornament than as a motive force.

  "It's all right," said Denry.

  And Simeon, in silence, nodded his head slowly several times.

  "I shall give you thirty shilling for the week," said Denry.

  And that venerable head oscillated again in the moon-lit gloom androcked gradually to a stand-still.

  Presently the head said, in shrill, slow tones:

  "I've seen three o' them Norwegian chaps. Two of 'em can no more speakEnglish than a babe unborn; no, nor understand what ye say to 'em,though I fair bawled in their ear-holes."

  "So much the better," said Denry.

  "I showed 'em that sovereign," said the bearded head, wagging again.

  "Well," said Denry, "you won't forget. Six o'clock to-morrow morning."

  "Ye'd better say five," the head suggested. "Quieter like."

  "Five, then," Denry agreed.

  And he departed to St Asaph's Road burdened with a tremendous thought.

  The thought was:

  "I've gone and done it this time!"

  Now that the transaction was accomplished and could not be undone, headmitted to himself that he had never been more mad. He could scarcelycomprehend what had led him to do that which he had done. But heobscurely imagined that his caprice for the possession of sea-goingcraft must somehow be the result of his singular adventure with thepantechnicon in the canal at Bursley. He was so preoccupied withmaterial interests as to be capable of forgetting, for a quarter of anhour at a stretch, that in all essential respects his life was wrecked,and that he had nothing to hope for save hollow worldly success. He knewthat Ruth would return the ring. He could almost see the postman holdingthe little cardboard cube which would contain the rendered ring. He hadloved, and loved tragically. (That was how he put it--in his unspokenthoughts; but the truth was merely that he had loved something tooexpensive.) Now the dream was done. And a man of disillusion walkedalong the Parade towards St Asaph's Road among revellers, a man with apast, a man who had probed women, a man who had nothing to learn aboutthe sex. And amid all the tragedy of his heart, and all hisapprehensions concerning hollow, worldly success, little thoughts ofabsurd unimportance kept running about like clockwork mice in his head.Such as that it would be a bit of a bore to have to tell people atBursley that his engagement, which truly had thrilled the town, wasbroken off. Humiliating, that! And, after all, Ruth was a glittering gemamong women. Was there another girl in Bursley so smart, so effective,so truly ornate?

  Then he comforted himself with the reflection: "I'm certainly the onlyman that ever ended an engagement by just saying 'Rothschild!'" This wasprobably true. But it did not help him to sleep.

  II

  The next morning at 5.20 the youthful sun was shining on the choppywater of the Irish Sea, just off the Little Orme, to the west ofLlandudno Bay. Oscillating on the uneasy waves was Denry's lifeboat,manned by the nodding bearded head, three ordinary British longshoremen,a Norwegian who could speak English of two syllables, and two otherNorwegians who by a strange neglect of education could speak nothing butNorwegian.

  Close under the headland, near a morsel of beach lay the remains of the_Hjalmar_ in an attitude of repose. It was as if the _Hjalmar_, after along struggle, had lain down like a cab-horse and said to the tempest:"Do what you like now!"

  "Yes," the venerable head was piping. "Us can come out comfortable intwenty minutes, unless the tide be setting east strong. And, as forgetting back, it'll be the same, other way round, if ye understand me."

  There could be no question that Simeon had come out comfortable. But hewas the coxswain. The rowers seemed to be perspiringly aware that theboat was vast and beamy.

  "Shall we row up to it?" Simeon inquired, pointing to the wreck.

  Then a pale face appeared above the gunwale, and an expiring, imploringvoice said: "No. We'll go back." Whereupon the pale face vanished again.

  Denry had never before been outside the bay. In the navigation ofpantechnicons on the squall-swept basins of canals he might have been agreat master, but he was unfitted for the open sea. At that moment hewould have been almost ready to give the lifeboat and all that he ownedfor the privilege of returning to land by train. The inward journey wasso long that Denry lost hope of ever touching his native island again.And then there was a bump. And he disembarked, with hope burning upagain cheerfully in his bosom. And it was a quarter to six.

  By the first post, which arrived at half-past seven, there came a brownpackage. "The ring!" he thought, starting horribly. But the package wasa cube of three inches, and would have held a hundred rings. He undidthe cover, and saw on half a sheet of notepaper the words:--

  "Thank you so much for the lovely time you gave me. I hope you will like this, NELLIE."

  He was touched. If Ruth was hard, mercenary, costly, her young andingenuous companion could at any rate be grateful and sympathetic. Yes,he was touched. He had imagined himself to be dead to all humanaffections, but it was not so. The package contained chocolate, and hisnose at once perceived that it was chocolate impregnated with lemon--thesurprising but agreeable compound accidentally invented by Nellie on theprevious day at the pier buffet. The little thing must have spent a partof the previous afternoon in preparing it, and she must have put thepackage in the post at Crewe. Secretive and delightful little thing!After his recent experience beyond the bay he had imagined himself to beincapable of ever eating again, but it was not so. The lemon gave apeculiar astringent, appetising, _settling_ quality to thechocolate. And he ate even with gusto. The result was that, instead ofwaiting for the nine o'clock boarding-house breakfast, he hurriedenergetically into the streets and called on a jobbing printer whom hehad seen on the previous evening. As Ruth had said, "There is nothinglike chocolate for sustaining you."

  III

  At ten o'clock two Norwegian sailors, who could only smile in answer tothe questions which assailed them, were distributing the followinghandbill on the Parade:--

  WRECK OF THE _HJALMAR_

  HEROISM AT LLANDUDNO


  Every hour, at 11, 12, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 o'oclock,[sic] THE IDENTICAL (guaranteed) LIFEBOAT which rescued the crew of the

  _HJALMAR_

  will leave the beach for the scene of the wreck Manned by Simeon Edwards, the oldest boatman in LLANDUDNO, and by members of the rescued crew, genuine Norwegians (guaranteed)

  SIMEON EDWARDS, _Coxswain_.

  Return Fare, with use of Cork Belt and Life-lines if desired, 2s. 6d.

  A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY

  A UNIQUE EXPERIENCE

  _P.S._--The bravery of the lifeboatmen has been the theme of the Press throughout the Principality and neighbouring counties.

  E.D. MACHIN.

  At eleven o'clock there was an eager crowd down on the beach where, withsome planks and a piece of rock, Simeon had arranged an embarkation pierfor the lifeboat. One man, in overalls, stood up to his knees in thewater and escorted passengers up the planks, while Simeon'sconfidence-generating beard received them into the broad waist of theboat. The rowers wore sou'westers and were secured to the craft bylife-lines, and these conveniences were also offered, with life-belts,to the intrepid excursionists. A paper was pinned in the stern:"Licensed to carry Fourteen." (Denry had just paid the fee.) But quiteforty people were anxious to make the first voyage.

  "No more," shrilled Simeon, solemnly. And the wader scrambled in and theboat slid away.

  "Fares, please!" shrilled Simeon.

  He collected one pound fifteen, and slowly buttoned it up in theright-hand pocket of his blue trousers.

  "Now, my lads, with a will," he gave the order. And then, withdeliberate method, he lighted his pipe. And the lifeboat shot away.

  Close by the planks stood a young man in a negligent attitude, and witha look on his face as if to say: "Please do not imagine that I have theslightest interest in this affair." He stared consistently out to seauntil the boat had disappeared round the Little Orme, and then he took afew turns on the sands, in and out amid the castles. His heart wasbeating in a most disconcerting manner. After a time he resumed hisperusal of the sea. And the lifeboat reappeared and grew larger andlarger, and finally arrived at the spot from which it had departed, onlyhigher up the beach because the tide was rising. And Simeon debarkedfirst, and there was a small blue and red model of a lifeboat in hishand, which he shook to a sound of coins.

  "_For_ the Lifeboat Fund! _For_ the Lifeboat Fund!" he gravelyintoned.

  Every debarking passenger dropped a coin into the slit.

  In five minutes the boat was refilled, and Simeon had put the value offourteen more half-crowns into his pocket.

  The lips of the young man on the beach moved, and he murmured:

  "That makes over three pounds! Well, I'm dashed!"

  At the hour appointed for dinner he went to St Asaph's Road, but couldeat nothing. He could only keep repeating very softly to himself, "Well,I'm dashed!"

  Throughout the afternoon the competition for places in the lifeboat grewkeener and more dangerous. Denry's craft was by no means the sole craftengaged in carrying people to see the wreck. There were dozens of boatsin the business, which had suddenly sprung up that morning, the seabeing then fairly inoffensive for the first time since the height of thestorm. But the other boats simply took what the lifeboat left. Theguaranteed identity of the lifeboat, and of the Norsemen (who replied toquestions in gibberish), and of Simeon himself; the sou'westers, thelife-belts and the lines; even the collection for the Lifeboat Fund atthe close of the voyage: all these matters resolved themselves into afascination which Llandudno could not resist.

  And in regard to the collection, a remarkable crisis arose. The model ofa lifeboat became full, gorged to the slot. And the Local Secretary ofthe Fund had the key. The model was despatched to him by specialmessenger to open and to empty, and in the meantime Simeon used hissou'-wester as a collecting-box. This contretemps was impressive. Atnight Denry received twelve pounds odd at the hands of Simeon Edwards.He showered the odd in largesse on his heroic crew, who had alsoreceived many tips. By the evening post the fatal ring arrived fromRuth, as he anticipated. He was just about to throw it into the sea,when he thought better of the idea, and stuck it in his pocket. He triedstill to feel that his life had been blighted by Ruth. But he could not.The twelve pounds, largely in silver, weighed so heavy in his pocket. Hesaid to himself: "Of course this can't last!"

  IV

  Then came the day when he first heard some one saying discreetly behindhim:

  "That's the lifeboat chap!"

  Or more briefly:

  "That's him!"

  Implying that in all Llandudno "him" could mean only one person.

  And for a time he went about the streets self-consciously. However, thatself-consciousness soon passed off, and he wore his fame as easily as hewore his collar.

  The lifeboat trips to the _Hjalmar_ became a feature of daily lifein Llandudno. The pronunciation of the ship's name went through atroublous period. Some said the "j" ought to be pronounced to theexclusion of the "h," and others maintained the contrary. In the end thefirst two letters were both abandoned utterly, also the last--but nobodyhad ever paid any attention to the last. The facetious had a trick ofcalling the wreck _Inkerman_. This definite settlement of thepronunciation of the name was a sign that the pleasure-seekers ofLlandudno had definitely fallen in love with the lifeboat-trip habit.Denry's timid fear that the phenomenon which put money into his pocketcould not continue, was quite falsified. It continued violently. AndDenry wished that the _Hjalmar_ had been wrecked a month earlier.He calculated that the tardiness of the _Hjalmar_ in wreckingitself had involved him in a loss of some four hundred pounds. If onlythe catastrophe had happened early in July, instead of early in August,and he had been there. Why, if forty _Hjalmars_ had been wrecked,and their forty crews saved by forty different lifeboats, and Denry hadbought all the lifeboats, he could have filled them all!

  Still, the regularity of his receipts was extremely satisfactory andcomforting. The thing had somehow the air of being a miracle; at anyrate of being connected with magic. It seemed to him that nothing couldhave stopped the visitors to Llandudno from fighting for places in hislifeboat and paying handsomely for the privilege. They had begun thepractice, and they looked as if they meant to go on with the practiceeternally. He thought that the monotony of it would strike themunfavourably. But no! He thought that they would revolt against doingwhat every one had done. But no! Hundreds of persons arrived fresh fromthe railway station every day, and they all appeared to be drawn to thatlifeboat as to a magnet. They all seemed to know instantly andinstinctively that to be correct in Llandudno they must make at leastone trip in Denry's lifeboat.

  He was pocketing an income which far exceeded his most golden visions.And therefore naturally his first idea was to make that income largerand larger still. He commenced by putting up the price of the afternoontrips. There was a vast deal too much competition for seats in theafternoon. This competition led to quarrels, unseemly language, anddeplorable loss of temper. It also led to loss of time. Denry wastherefore benefiting humanity by charging three shillings after twoo'clock. This simple and benign device equalised the competitionthroughout the day, and made Denry richer by seven or eight pounds aweek.

  But his fertility of invention did not stop there. One morning theearliest excursionists saw a sort of Robinson Crusoe marooned on thestrip of beach near the wreck. All that heartless fate had left himappeared to be a machine on a tripod and a few black bags. And there wasno shelter for him save a shallow cave. The poor fellow was quiterespectably dressed. Simeon steered the boat round by the beach, whichshelved down sharply, and as he did so the Robinson Crusoe hid his headin a cloth, as though ashamed, or as though he had gone mad and believedhimself to be an ostrich. Then apparently he thought the better of it,and gazed boldly forth again. And the boat passed on its starboard sidewithin a dozen feet of him and his machine. Then it put about and passedon the port side. And the same thing occurred on every trip. And thelast trippe
rs of the day left Robinson Crusoe on the strip of beach inhis solitude.

  The next morning a photographer's shop on the Parade pulled down itsshutters and displayed posters all over the upper part of its windows.And the lower part of the windows held sixteen different largephotographs of the lifeboat broad-side on. The likenesses of over ahundred visitors, many of them with sou'-westers, cork belts, andlife-lines, could be clearly distinguished in these picturesque groups.A notice said:--

  "_Copies of any of these magnificent permanent holographs can besupplied, handsomely mounted, at a charge of two shillings each. Ordersexecuted in rotation, and delivered by post if necessary. It isrespectfully requested that cash be paid with order. Otherwise orderscannot be accepted._"

  Very few of those who had made the trip could resist the fascination ofa photograph of themselves in a real lifeboat, manned by real heroes andreal Norwegians on real waves, especially if they had worn the gearappropriate to lifeboats. The windows of the shop were beset throughoutthe day with crowds anxious to see who was in the lifeboat, and who hadcome out well, and who was a perfect fright. The orders on the first dayamounted to over fifteen pounds, for not everybody was content with onephotograph. The novelty was acute and enchanting, and it renewed itselfeach day. "Let's go down and look at the lifeboat photographs," peoplewould say, when they were wondering what to do next. Some persons whohad not "taken nicely" would perform a special trip in the lifeboat andwould wear special clothes and compose special faces for the ordeal. TheMayor of Ashby-de-la-Zouch for that year ordered two hundred copies of aphotograph which showed himself in the centre, for presentation as NewYear's cards. On the mornings after very dull days or wet days, whenphotography had been impossible or unsatisfactory, Llandudno felt thatsomething lacked. Here it may be mentioned that inclement weather (ofwhich, for the rest, there was little) scarcely interfered with Denry'sreceipts. Imagine a lifeboat being deterred by rain or by a breath ofwind! There were tarpaulins. When the tide was strong and adverse, malepassengers were allowed to pull, without extra charge, though naturallythey would give a trifle to this or that member of the professionalcrew.

  Denry's arrangement with the photographer was so simple that a childcould have grasped it. The photographer paid him sixpence on everyphotograph sold. This was Denry's only connection with the photographer.The sixpences totalled over a dozen pounds a week. Regardless of cost,Denry reprinted his article from the _Staffordshire Signal_descriptive of the night of the wreck, with a photograph of the lifeboatand its crew, and presented a copy to every client of his photographicdepartment.

  V

  Llandudno was next titillated by the mysterious "Chocolate Remedy,"which made its first appearance in a small boat that plied off RobinsonCrusoe's strip of beach. Not infrequently passengers in the lifeboatwere inconvenienced by displeasing and even distressing sensations, asDenry had once been inconvenienced. He felt deeply for them. TheChocolate Remedy was designed to alleviate the symptoms whilecaptivating the palate. It was one of the most agreeable remedies thatthe wit of man ever invented. It tasted like chocolate and yet there wasan astringent flavour of lemon in it--a flavour that flattered thestomach into a good opinion of itself, and seemed to say, "All's rightwith the world." The stuff was retailed in sixpenny packets, and youwere advised to eat only a very little of it at a time, and not tomasticate, but merely to permit melting. Then the Chocolate Remedy cameto be sold on the lifeboat itself, and you were informed that if you"took" it before starting on the wave, no wave could disarrange you.And, indeed, many persons who followed this advice suffered no distress,and were proud accordingly, and duly informed the world. Then theChocolate Remedy began to be sold everywhere. Young people bought itbecause they enjoyed it, and perfectly ignored the advice againstover-indulgence and against mastication. The Chocolate Remedy penetratedlike the refrain of a popular song to other seaside places. It was onsale from Morecambe to Barmouth, and at all the landing-stages of thesteamers for the Isle of Man and Anglesey. Nothing surprised Denry somuch as the vogue of the Chocolate Remedy. It was a serious anxiety tohim, and he muddled both the manufacture and distribution of the remedy,from simple ignorance and inexperience. His chief difficulty at firsthad been to obtain small cakes of chocolate that were not stamped withthe maker's name or mark. Chocolate manufacturers seemed to have apassion for imprinting their Quakerly names on every bit of stuff theysold. Having at length obtained a supply, he was silly enough to spendtime in preparing the remedy himself in his bedroom! He might as wellhave tried to feed the British Army from his mother's kitchen. At lengthhe went to a confectioner in Rhyl and a greengrocer in Llandudno, and bygiving away half the secret to each, he contrived to keep the wholesecret to himself. But even then he was manifestly unequal to thesituation created by the demand for the Chocolate Remedy. It was asituation that needed the close attention of half a dozen men ofbusiness. It was quite different from the affair of the lifeboat.

  One night a man who had been staying a day or two in the boarding-housein St Asaph's Road said to Denry:

  "Look here, mister. I go straight to the point. What'll you take?"

  And he explained what he meant. What would Denry take for the entiresecret and rights of the Chocolate Remedy and the use of the name"Machin" ("without which none was genuine").

  "What do you offer?" Denry asked.

  "Well, I'll give you a hundred pounds down, and that's my last word."

  Denry was staggered. A hundred pounds for simply nothing at all--fordipping bits of chocolate in lemon-juice!

  He shook his head.

  "I'll take two hundred," he replied.

  And he got two hundred. It was probably the worst bargain that he evermade in his life. For the Chocolate Remedy continued obstinately indemand for ten years afterwards. But he was glad to be rid of the thing;it was spoiling his sleep and wearing him out.

  He had other worries. The boatmen of Llandudno regarded him as an enemyof the human race. If they had not been nature's gentlemen they wouldhave burned him alive at a stake. Cregeen, in particular, consistentlyreferred to him in terms which could not have been more severe had Denrybeen the assassin of Cregeen's wife and seven children. In daring tomake over a hundred pounds a week out of a ramshackle old lifeboat thatCregeen had sold to him for thirty-five pounds, Denry was outragingCregeen's moral code. Cregeen had paid thirty-five pounds for the_Fleetwinz_, a craft immeasurably superior to Denry's nameless tub.And was Cregeen making a hundred pounds a week out of it? Not a hundredshillings! Cregeen genuinely thought that he had a right to half Denry'sprofits. Old Simeon, too, seemed to think that _he_ had a right toa large percentage of the same profits. And the Corporation, though itwas notorious that excursionists visited the town purposely to voyage inthe lifeboat, the Corporation made difficulties--about the embarking anddisembarking, about the photographic strip of beach, about the crowds onthe pavement outside the photograph shop. Denry learnt that he hadcommitted the sin of not being a native of Llandudno. He was a stranger,and he was taking money out of the town. At times he wished he couldhave been born again. His friend and saviour was the Local Secretary ofthe Lifeboat Institution, who happened to be a Town Councillor. Thisworthy man, to whom Denry paid over a pound a day, was invaluable tohim. Further, Denry was invited--nay commanded--to contribute to nearlyevery church, chapel, mission, and charity in Carnarvonshire,Flintshire, and other counties. His youthfulness was not accepted as anexcuse. And as his gross profits could be calculated by any dunce whochose to stand on the beach for half a day, it was not easy for him topretend that he was on the brink of starvation. He could only ward offattacks by stating with vague, convinced sadness that his expenses weremuch greater than any one could imagine.

  In September, when the moon was red and full, and the sea glassy, heannounced a series of nocturnal "Rocket Fetes." The lifeboat, hung withChinese lanterns, put out in the evening (charge five shillings) and,followed by half the harbour's fleet of rowing-boats and cutters,proceeded to the neighbourhood of the strip of beach,
where a rocketapparatus had been installed by the help of the Lifeboat Secretary. Themortar was trained; there was a flash, a whizz, a line of fire, and arope fell out of the sky across the lifeboat. The effect was thrillingand roused cheers. Never did the Lifeboat Institution receive such anadvertisement as Denry gave it--gratis.

  After the rocketing Denry stood alone on the slopes of the Little Ormeand watched the lanterns floating home over the water, and heard thelusty mirth of his clients in the still air. It was an emotionalexperience for him.

  "By Jove!" he said, "I've wakened this town up!"

  VI

  One morning, in the very last sad days of the dying season, when hisreceipts had dropped to the miserable figure of about fifty pounds aweek, Denry had a great and pleasing surprise. He met Nellie on theParade. It was a fact that the recognition of that innocent, childlikeblushing face gave him joy. Nellie was with her father, CouncillorCotterill, and her mother. The Councillor was a speculative builder, whowas erecting several streets of British homes in the new quarter abovethe new municipal park at Bursley. Denry had already encountered himonce or twice in the way of business. He was a big and portly man offorty-five, with a thin face and a consciousness of prosperity. At onemoment you would think him a jolly, bluff fellow, and at the next youwould be disconcerted by a note of cunning or of harshness. MrsCouncillor Cotterill was one of these women who fail to live up to theever-increasing height of their husbands. Afflicted with an eternalstage-fright, she never opened her close-pressed lips in society, thougha few people knew that she could talk as fast and as effectively as anyone. Difficult to set in motion, her vocal machinery was equallydifficult to stop. She generally wore a low bonnet and a mantle. TheCotterills had been spending a fortnight in the Isle of Man, and theyhad come direct from Douglas to Llandudno by steamer, where they meantto pass two or three days. They were staying at Craig-y-don, at theeastern end of the Parade.

  "Well, young man!" said Councillor Cotterill.

  And he kept on young-manning Denry with an easy patronage which Denrycould scarcely approve of. "I bet I've made more money this summer thanyou have with all your jerrying!" said Denry silently to theCouncillor's back while the Cotterill family were inspecting thehistoric lifeboat on the beach. Councillor Cotterill said frankly thatone reason for their calling at Llandudno was his desire to see thissingular lifeboat, about which there had really been a very great dealof talk in the Five Towns. The admission comforted Denry. Then theCouncillor recommenced his young-manning.

  "Look here," said Denry, carelessly, "you must come and dine with me onenight, all of you--will you?"

  Nobody who has not passed at least twenty years in a district wherepeople dine at one o'clock, and dining after dark is regarded as a wildidiosyncrasy of earls, can appreciate the effect of this speech.

  The Councillor, when he had recovered himself, said that they would bepleased to dine with him; Mrs Cotterill's tight lips were seen to move,but not heard; and Nellie glowed.

  "Yes," said Denry, "come and dine with me at the Majestic."

  The name of the Majestic put an end to the young-manning. It was the newhotel by the pier, and advertised itself as the most luxurious hotel inthe Principality. Which was bold of it, having regard to themagnificence of caravanserais at Cardiff. It had two hundred bedrooms,and waiters who talked English imperfectly; and its prices were supposedto be fantastic.

  After all, the most startled and frightened person of the four wasperhaps Denry. He had never given a dinner to anybody. He had never evendined at night. He had never been inside the Majestic. He had never hadthe courage to go inside the Majestic. He had no notion of themysterious preliminaries to the offering of a dinner in a public place.

  But the next morning he contracted to give away the lifeboat to asyndicate of boatmen, headed by John their leader, for thirty-fivepounds. And he swore to himself that he would do that dinner properly,even if it cost him the whole price of the boat. Then he met MrsCotterill coming out of a shop. Mrs Cotterill, owing to a strange hazardof fate, began talking at once. And Denry, as an old shorthand writer,instinctively calculated that not Thomas Allen Reed himself could havetaken Mrs Cotterill down verbatim. Her face tried to express pain, butpleasure shone out of it. For she found herself in an excitingcontretemps which she could understand.

  "Oh, Mr Machin," she said, "what _do_ you think's happened? I don'tknow how to tell you, I'm sure. Here you've arranged for that dinnerto-morrow and it's all settled, and now Miss Earp telegraphs to ourNellie to say she's coming to-morrow for a day or two with us. You knowRuth and Nellie are _such_ friends. It's like as if what must be,isn't it? I don't know what to do, I do declare. What _ever_ willRuth say at us leaving her all alone the first night she comes? I reallydo think she might have----"

  "You must bring her along with you," said Denry.

  "But won't you--shan't you--won't she--won't it----"

  "Not at all," said Denry. "Speaking for myself, I shall be delighted."

  "Well, I'm sure you're very sensible," said Mrs Cotterill. "I was butsaying to Mr Cotterill over breakfast--I said to him----"

  "I shall ask Councillor Rhys-Jones to meet you," said Denry. "He's oneof the principal members of the Town Council here; Local Secretary ofthe Lifeboat Institution. Great friend of mine."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs Cotterill, "it'll be quite an affair."

  It was.

  Denry found to his relief that the only difficult part of arranging adinner at the Majestic was the steeling of yourself to enter thegorgeous portals of the hotel. After that, and after murmuring that youwished to fix up a little snack, you had nothing to do but listen tosuggestions, each surpassing the rest in splendour, and say "Yes."Similarly with the greeting of a young woman who was once to you thejewel of the world. You simply said, "Good-afternoon, how are you?" Andshe said the same. And you shook hands. And there you were, still alive!

  The one defect of the dinner was that the men were not in evening dress.(Denry registered a new rule of life: Never travel without your eveningdress, because you never know what may turn up.) The girls wereradiantly white. And after all there is nothing like white. MrsCotterill was in black silk and silence. And after all there is nothinglike black silk. There was champagne. There were ices. Nellie, not beingpermitted champagne, took her revenge in ice. Denry had found anopportunity to relate to her the history of the Chocolate Remedy. Shesaid, "How wonderful you are!" And he said it was she who was wonderful.Denry gave no information about the Chocolate Remedy to her father.Neither did she. As for Ruth, indubitably she was responsible for thesocial success of the dinner. She seemed to have the habit of theseaffairs. She it was who loosed tongues. Nevertheless, Denry saw her nowwith different eyes, and it appeared incredible to him that he had oncemistaken her for the jewel of the world.

  At the end of the dinner Councillor Rhys-Jones produced a sensation byrising to propose the health of their host. He referred to the superbheroism of England's lifeboatmen, and in the name of the Institutionthanked Denry for the fifty-three pounds which Denry's public hadcontributed to the funds. He said it was a noble contribution and thatDenry was a philanthropist. And he called on Councillor Cotterill tosecond the toast. Which Councillor Cotterill did, in good set terms, theresult of long habit. And Denry stammered that he was much obliged, andthat really it was nothing.

  But when the toasting was finished, Councillor Cotterill lapsed somewhatinto a patronising irony, as if he were jealous of a youthful success.And he did not stop at "young man." He addressed Denry grandiosely as"my boy."

  "This lifeboat--it was just an idea, my boy, just an idea," he said.

  "Yes," said Denry, "but I thought of it."

  "The question is," said the Councillor, "can you think of any more ideasas good?"

  "Well," said Denry, "can _you_?"

  With reluctance they left the luxury of the private dining-room, andDenry surreptitiously paid the bill with a pile of sovereigns, andCouncillor Rhys-Jones parted from them with lively grief. The oth
er fivewalked in a row along the Parade in the moonlight. And when they arrivedin front of Craig-y-don, and the Cotterills were entering, Ruth, wholoitered behind, said to Denry in a liquid voice:

  "I don't feel a bit like going to sleep. I suppose you wouldn't care fora stroll?"

  "Well------"

  "I daresay you're very tired," she said.

  "No," he replied, "it's this moonlight I'm afraid of."

  And their eyes met under the door-lamp, and Ruth wished him pleasantdreams and vanished. It was exceedingly subtle.

  VII

  The next afternoon the Cotterills and Ruth Earp went home, and Denrywith them. Llandudno was just settling into its winter sleep, andDenry's rather complex affairs had all been put in order. Though theothers showed a certain lassitude, he himself was hilarious. Among hisinsignificant luggage was a new hat-box, which proved to be the originof much gaiety.

  "Just take this, will you?" he said to a porter on the platform atLlandudno Station, and held out the new hat-box with an air of calm. Theporter innocently took it, and then, as the hat-box nearly jerked hisarm out of the socket, gave vent to his astonishment after the manner ofporters.

  "By gum, mister!" said he, "that's heavy!"

  It, in fact, weighed nearly two stone.

  "Yes," said Denry, "it's full of sovereigns, of course."

  And everybody laughed.

  At Crewe, where they had to change, and again at Knype and at Bursley,he produced astonishment in porters by concealing the effort with whichhe handed them the hat-box, as though its weight was ten ounces. Andeach time he made the same witticism about sovereigns.

  "What _have_ you got in that hat-box?" Ruth asked.

  "Don't I tell you?" said Denry, laughing. "Sovereigns!"

  Lastly, he performed the same trick on his mother. Mrs Machin wasworking, as usual, in the cottage in Brougham Street. Perhaps the notionof going to Llandudno for a change had not occurred to her. In any case,her presence had been necessary in Bursley, for she had frequentlycollected Denry's rents for him, and collected them very well. Denry wasglad to see her again, and she was glad to see him, but they concealedtheir feelings as much as possible. When he basely handed her thehat-box she dropped it, and roundly informed him that she was not goingto have any of his pranks.

  After tea, whose savouriness he enjoyed quite as much as his own statedinner, he gave her a key and asked her to open the hat-box, which hehad placed on a chair.

  "What is there in it?"

  "A lot of jolly fine pebbles that I've been collecting on the beach," hesaid.

  She got the hat-box on to her knee, and unlocked it, and came to a thickcloth, which she partly withdrew, and then there was a scream from MrsMachin, and the hat-box rolled with a terrific crash to the tiled floor,and she was ankle-deep in sovereigns. She could see sovereigns runningabout all over the parlour. Gradually even the most active sovereignsdecided to lie down and be quiet, and a great silence ensued. Denry'sheart was beating.

  Mrs Machin merely shook her head. Not often did her son deprive her ofwords, but this theatrical culmination of his home-coming really didleave her speechless.

  Late that night rows of piles of sovereigns decorated the oval table inthe parlour.

  "A thousand and eleven," said Denry, at length, beneath the lamp."There's fifteen missing yet. We'll look for 'em to-morrow."

  For several days afterwards Mrs Machin was still picking up sovereigns.Two had even gone outside the parlour, and down the two steps into thebackyard, and finding themselves unable to get back, had remained there.

  And all the town knew that the unique Denry had thought of the idea ofreturning home to his mother with a hat-box crammed with sovereigns.

  This was Denry's "latest," and it employed the conversation of theborough for I don't know how long.