Silver Shoal Light/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV
THE FLUTE AT NIGHT: JIM GOES ASHORE
THAT night Garth went to bed sorrowing that a white, plastered ceiling should be above him, instead of a canopy of stars. Downstairs the lighthouse door stood open to the warm night wind and soft darkness. The light of the student-lamp reached no farther than the threshold, and the doorway framed a square cut from the purple evening. Outside the water lapped and washed with that perpetual murmur which made a changeless undertone to existence at Silver Shoal. Jim closed his book and looked across a lamplit round of table at his wife and Joan.
"It's a dull book," he said. "Read something aloud, Elspeth."
Obedient, she read, and the music of her reading filled the little room with soft delight and Joan's heart with a deep content. Jim, smoking and gazing dreamily at the scattered stars beyond the window, stood up suddenly with an impatient word. The doorway held a bowing figure—Count Stysalski, his flute-case in his hand. He hoped that he was not intruding; he feared that it was somewhat late for a call; such a peaceful scene of enjoyment, he did not wish to disturb it. But since that pleasant afternoon upon the hill he had dreamed of another hour spent in delightful conversation and music.
He may have mistaken his unenthusiastic reception for the attentive silence of an appreciative audience. He made most of the delightful conversation himself and soon took out his flute. He bowed graciously, much as though he were giving a recital, and began to play. Once more magic was wrought. The listeners, spell-bound despite themselves, leaned forward, rapt. They covered their eyes and abandoned themselves to the eerie ecstasy of the music. They forgot their dislike of the man; they were silent in respect, not in scorn.
Afterward the Count persuaded Jim to take him up to the Light—he had such a desire to see that magnificent mechanism in work—and Jim, half dazed, led the way to the tower. He went up the stairs to elfin music, and it was not until the Count stood peering about in the lantern that Jim shook himself free of enchantment and remembered obligation to duty and his hatred of the man. Angry with himself, he cut short the Russian's inspection of the lamp, led him down again, and lighted the way to the landing in marked haste.
Later, as Jim passed through Garth's room, a murmurous voice spoke from the darkness.
"Mud—der—"
"It's Fogger, best beloved."
Jim went to the bed beneath the seaward window.
"Do—you—know what happened, Fogger?" Garth said dreamily.
"What did happen?"
"A mermaid—or something—came and sang to me—or played. I was asleep. Did you hear it, or did I just dream it?"
"Yes," Jim said; "I heard it, and so did Mudder and Joan. It was very beautiful, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Garth murmured. "Such nice things—happen—to us. And there were stars—on the—ceiling. . . ."
A Letter from Garth Pemberley to His Uncle
A Letter from Elspeth Pemberly to Her Brother
Silver Shoal,
August 10th.
Dearest Brob:
This is only a word,—more to beg you to come down for Garth's birthday, than anything else. I know you're very busy, but surely you can run away for a day or two. Joan is still here, but you can bunk with 'Bijah in his queer little shack if we can't wring another sleeping-place from Silver Shoal. Please don't spend anything on a present for Garth,—you're always too generous. Give it to the Belgian babies, or to your tenement infants, if you'd rather. If you've a sketch of a ship, or something, that you don't want, he'd adore it to hang in his room. Don't try to let us know, if you're not sure that you can come. 'Bijah will bring you out, and we shall be ready for you at any time.
Jim has had a very mysterious correspondence with the Government of late, and goes off to-morrow to "have another try at the Navy," as he says. I do hope that he won't be disappointed.
Garth has been scribbling beside me for the last half hour, and now proffers the enclosed. The spelling seems to have run wild in spots, but he's either too haughty to ask for assistance, or too considerate to interrupt me (I like to think it's the latter!). And apparently last winter's lessons are so much things of the dim past as to have left no very visible results! But I think that you will like the letter, and you would like to have seen him writing it,—so very much absorbed and with such a nice, brown profile against the white curtain. It was indeed exciting, going aboard a real schooner. It was almost too much for him; he was really trembling with the wonder of it when he came back, and he didn't go to sleep for ages. I think it is a little bit pathetic about the "astralien craul." Oh, you must come, Brob, if only to see him just the way he is now, before he changes at all.
With much love, hopefully,
The sight of Jim in "shore clothes" was so amazing and unwonted that it called forth much comment during half of breakfast time. A stiff, white collar, making his face look browner than ever, and a gray, pencil-striped suit were things so different from his usual attire as to make him seem quite another person.
"And such shiny shoes!" said Garth. "My town shoes aren't as shiny as that! And such a beautiful speckledy necktie!"
"I don't like to look at him," said Elspeth; "he's much nicer the other way. Why, even his hair is subdued by civilization. See how horrid and flat it is!"
"Wait until I come home this evening in an Admiral's uniform," said Jim; "then you'll be sorry."
"Will you really be an Admiral, Fogger?"
"Ever so many stars and anchors on my shoulder-straps," Jim proceeded, "and very likely a cocked hat. And a sword, of course, and white kid gloves."
"White kid gloves will be so nice," said Elspeth, "when you clean the lamp and bail out the dory."
"I sha'n't be cleaning the lamp," Jim said. "I shall be standing on the bridge of my flagship, bossing the Fleet through a—periscope." Then he laughed as he looked at Garth.
"Oh, Pem!" he said, shaking his head, "you precious old periwinkle! Aren't you used to your foolish Fogger yet? I'll be everlastingly thankful if they make me an ensign, or let me in at all."
He stood up and swept Garth into his arms.
"I never know whether you really are joking," Garth said. "And I thought they might make you an Admiral. You know enough."
Jim smiled a little; then looked straight into his son's eyes.
"Wish me luck, old man," he whispered.
Garth hugged him with all his strength.
"Oh, I do, Fogger," he said, "lots and lots! And oh, come back soon!"
Jim put him down gently and, catching up his Panama hat, stood for a moment in the doorway.
"Good-by!" he said. "Don't let anything happen to yourselves. I expect to be home before light-up time."
They gathered at the door and watched him cast off the Cymba's moorings, and they waved their hands.
"Good-by! Good-by!"
When he had rowed a little way from the pier, they saw him take off the Panama hat and put it in the stern, with an oar-lock inside it. They all shouted with glee, and he looked back at them. They caught the sudden flash of his smile when the wind raced through his hair, making it anything but flat.
"I do hope he'll make it," said Elspeth, as they dried the dishes. "He's worked so hard! All this year, you know, besides writing, he's been studying—tactical things, and navigation, and ordnance, and dear knows what else. He's done practically all that's required in the officers' schools, and he's specialized and worked out some ideas of his own. If they find that he's physically fit, I don't see why he should n't get his commission at once."
"I think he deserves it," said Joan.