Sandy, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  ON SHIPBOARD

  The days that followed were not rose-strewn. Disgrace sat heavily uponthe delinquent, and he did penance by foregoing the joys of society.Menial labor and the knowledge that he would not be allowed to land,but would be sent back by the first steamer, were made all the moreunbearable by his first experience with illness. He had accepted hisfate and prepared to die when the ship's surgeon found him.

  The ship's surgeon was cruel enough to laugh, but he persuaded Sandyto come back to life. He was a small, white, round little man; andwhen he came rolling down the deck in his white linen suit, his facebeaming from its white frame of close-cropped hair and beard, he wasnot unlike one of his own round white little pills, except that theirsweetness stopped on the outside and his went clear through.

  He discovered Sandy lying on his face in the passageway, his righthand still dutifully wielding the scrub-brush, but his spirit brokenand his courage low.

  "Hello!" he exclaimed briskly; "what's your name?"

  "Sandy Kilday."

  "Scotch, eh?"

  "Me name is. The rest of me's Irish," groaned Sandy.

  "Well, Sandy, my boy, that's no way to scrub. Come out and get someair, and then go back and do it right."

  He guided Sandy's dying footsteps to the deck and propped him againstthe railing. That was when he laughed.

  "Not much of a sailor, eh?" he quizzed. "You'll be all right soon; wehave been getting the tail-end of a big nor'wester."

  "A happy storm it must have been, sir, to wag its tail so gay," saidSandy, trying to smile.

  The doctor clapped him on the back. "You're better. Want something toeat?"

  Sandy declined with violence. He explained his feelings with all theauthority of a first experience, adding in conclusion: "It was Jonah Iused to be after feelin' sorry for; it ain't now. It's the whale."

  The doctor prevailed upon him to drink some hot tea and eat asandwich. It was a heroic effort, but Sandy would have done even moreto prolong the friendly conversation.

  "How many more days have we got, sir?"

  "Five; but there's the return trip for you."

  Sandy's face flushed. "If they send me home, I'll be comin' back!" hecried, clinging to the railing as the ship lurched forward. "I'm goin'to be an American. I am goin'--" Further declarations as to hisfuture policy were cut short.

  From that time on the doctor took an interest in him. He even took upa collection of clothes for him among the officers. His professionalservices were no longer necessary, for Sandy enjoyed a speedy recoveryfrom his maritime troubles.

  "You are luckier than the rest," he said, one day, stopping on hisrounds. "I never had so many steerage patients before."

  The work was so heavy, in fact, that he obtained permission to get aboy to assist him. The happy duty devolved upon Sandy, who promptlyembraced not only the opportunity, but the doctor and the professionas well. He entered into his new work with such energy and enthusiasmthat by the end of the week he knew every man below the cabin deck. Soexpeditious did he become that he found many idle moments in which tocultivate acquaintances.

  His chosen companion at these times was a boy in the steerage,selected not for congeniality, but for his unlimited knowledge of allthings terrestrial, from the easiest way of making a fortune to thebest way of spending it. He was a short, heavy-set fellow of someeighteen years. His hair grew straight up from an overhangingforehead, under which two small eyes seemed always to be furtivelywatching each other over the bridge of his flat snub nose. His lipsmet with difficulty across large, irregular teeth. Such was RicksWilson, the most unprepossessing soul on board the good ship_America_.

  "You see, it's this way," explained Ricks as the boys sat behind thesmokestack and Sandy became initiated into the mysteries of awonderful game called "craps." "I didn't have no more 'n you've got. Ilived down South, clean off the track of ever'thing. I puts my foot inmy hand and went out and seen the world. I tramps up to New York,works my way over to England, tramps and peddles, and gits enoughdough to pay my way back. Say, it's bum slow over there. Why, theyain't even on to street-cars in London! I makes more in a week at homethan I do in a month in England. Say, where you goin' at when weland?"

  Sandy shook his head ruefully. "I got to go back," he said.

  Ricks glanced around cautiously, then moved closer.

  "You ain't that big a sucker, are you? Any feller that couldn't hopthe twig offen this old boat ain't much, that's all I got to say."

  "Oh, it's not the gettin' away," said Sandy, more certain than ever,now that he was sure of an ally.

  "Homesick?" asked Ricks, with a sneer.

  Sandy gave a short laugh. "Home? Why, I ain't got any home. I've justlived around since I was a young one. It's a chance to get on that I'mafter."

  "Well, what in thunder is takin' you back?"

  "I don't know," said Sandy, "'cep'n' it ain't in me to give 'em theslip now I know 'em. Then there's the doctor--"

  "That old feather-bed? O Lord! He's so good he gives me a pain. Goesround with his mouth hiked up in a smile, and I bet he's as mean asthe--"

  Before Hicks could finish he found himself inextricably tangled inSandy's arms and legs, while that irate youth sat upon him andpommeled him soundly.

  "So it's the good doctor ye'd be after blasphemin' and abusin' andmakin' game of! By the powers, ye'll take it back! Speak one timemore, and I'll make you swaller the lyin' words, if I have to breakevery bone in your skin!"

  There was an ugly look in Ricks's face as he threw the smaller boyoff, but further trouble was prevented by the appearance of the secondmate.

  Sandy hurried away to his duties, but not without an anxious glance atthe upper deck. He had never lost an opportunity, since that firstday, of looking up; but this was the first time that he was glad shewas not there. Only once had he caught sight of a white tam and a tancoat, and that was when they were being conducted hastily below by asympathetic stewardess.

  But Sandy needed no further food for his dreams than he already had.On sunny afternoons, when he had the time, he would seek a secludedcorner of the deck, and stretching himself on the boards with thegreen book in his hand, would float in a sea of sentiment. The factthat he had decided to study medicine and become a ship's surgeon inno wise interfered with his fixed purpose of riding forth into theworld on a cream-white charger in search of a damsel in distress.

  So thrilled did he become with the vision that he fell to makingrhymes, and was surprised to find that the same pair of eyes alwaysrhymed with skies--and they were brown.

  Sometimes, at night, a group would gather on the steerage deck andsing. A black-haired Italian, with shirt open at the throat, wouldstrike a pose and fling out a wild serenade; or a fat, placid Germanwould remove his pipe long enough to troll forth a mightydrinking-song. Whenever the air was a familiar one, the entire circlejoined in the chorus. At such times Sandy was always on hand, singingwith the loudest and telling his story with the best.

  "Make de jolly little Irish one to sing by hisself!" called a womanone night from the edge of the crowd. The invitation was taken up andrepeated on every side. Sandy, laughing and protesting, was pushed tothe front. Being thus suddenly forced into prominence, he suffered anacute attack of stage fright.

  "Chirp up there now and give us a tune!" cried some one behind him.

  "Can't ye remember none?" asked another.

  "Sure," said Sandy, laughing sheepishly; "but they all come wrong endfirst."

  Some one had thrust an old guitar in his hands, and he stoodnervously picking at the strings. He might have been standing therestill had not the moon come to his rescue. It climbed slowly out ofthe sea and sent a shimmer of silver and gold over the water, acrossthe deck, and into his eyes. He forgot himself and the crowd. Thestream of mystical romance that flows through the veins of every trueIrishman was never lacking in Sandy. His heart responded to thebeautiful as surely as the echo answers the call.

  He seized the guitar, and
picking out the notes with clumsy, falteringfingers, sang:

  "Ah! The moment was sad when my love and I parted, Savourneen deelish, signan O!"

  His boyish voice rang out clear and true, softening on the refrain toan indescribable tenderness that steeped the old song in the veryessence of mystery and love.

  "As I kiss'd off her tears, I was nigh broken-hearted!-- Savourneen deelish, signan O!"

  He could remember his mother singing him to sleep by it, and thebright red of her lips as they framed the words:

  "Wan was her cheek which hung on my shoulder; Chill was her hand, no marble was colder; I felt that again I should never behold her; Savourneen deelish, signan O!"

  As the song trembled to a close, a slight burst of applause came fromthe cabin deck. Sandy looked up, frowned, and bit his lip. He did notknow why, but he was sorry he had sung.

  The next morning the _America_ sailed into New York harbor, bandplaying and flags flying. She was bringing home a record and ajubilant crew. On the upper decks passengers were making merry overwhat is probably the most joyful parting in the world. In the steerageall was bustle and confusion and anticipation of the disembarking.

  Eagerly, wistfully watching it all, stood Sandy, as alert anddistressed as a young hound restrained from the hunt. It is somethingto accept punishment gracefully, but to accept punishment when it canbe avoided is nothing short of heroism. Sandy had to shut his eyes andgrip the railing to keep from planning an escape. Spread before him inbrave array across the water lay the promised land--and, like Moses,he was not to reach it.

  "That's the greatest city in America," said the ship's surgeon as hecame up to where he was standing. "What do you think of it?"

  "I never seen one stand on end afore!" exclaimed Sandy, amazed.

  "Would you like to go ashore long enough to look about?" asked thedoctor, with a smile running around the fat folds of his cheeks.

  "And would I?" asked Sandy, his eyes flying open. "It's me word ofhonor I'd give you that I'd come back."

  "The word of a stowaway, eh?" asked the doctor, still smiling.

  In a moment Sandy's face was crimson. "Whatever I be, sir, I ain't aliar!"

  The doctor pursed up his lips in comical dismay: "Not so hot, my man;not so hot! So you still want to be a doctor?"

  Sandy cooled down sufficiently to say that it was the one ambition ofhis life.

  "I know the physician in charge of the City Hospital here in New York.He's a good fellow. He'd put you through--give you work and put you inthe way of going to the Medical School. You'd like that?"

  "But," cried Sandy, bewildered but hopeful, "I have to go back!"

  The doctor shook his head. "No, you don't. I've paid your passage."

  Sandy waited a moment until the full import of the words was taken in,then he grabbed the stout little doctor and almost lifted him off hisfeet.

  "Oh! But ain't you a brick!" he cried fervently, adding earnestly: "Itain't a present you're makin' me, though! I'll pay it back, so help mebob!"

  At the pier the crowd of immigrants pushed and crowded impatiently asthey waited for the cabin passengers to go ashore. Among them wasSandy, bareheaded and in motley garb, laughing and shoving with thebest of them, hanging over the railing, and keeping up a fire ofmerriment at the expense of the crowd below. In his hand was a letterof recommendation to the physician in charge at the City Hospital, andin his inside pocket a ten-dollar bill was buttoned over a heart thathad not a care in the world. In the great stream of life Sandy was oneof the bubbles that are apt to come to the top.

  "You better come down to Kentucky with me," urged Ricks Wilson,resuming an old argument. "I'm goin' to peddle my way back home, thengit a payin' job at the racetrack."

  "Wasn't I tellin' ye that it was a doctor I'm goin' to be?" askedSandy, impatiently. Already Ricks's friendship was proving irksome.

  On the gang-plank above him the passengers were leaving the ship.Some delay had arisen, and for a moment the procession halted.Suddenly Sandy caught his breath. There, just above him, stood "thedamsel passing fair." Instead of the tam-o'-shanter she wore a bigdrooping hat of brown, which just matched the curls that were looselytied at the back of her neck.

  Sandy stood motionless and humbly adored her. He was a born lover,lavishing his affection, without discrimination or calculation, uponwhatever touched his heart. It surely was no harm just to stand asideand look. He liked the way she carried her head; he liked the way hereyes went up a little at the outer corners, and the round, soft curveof her chin. She was gazing steadfastly ahead of her down thegang-plank, and he ventured a step nearer and continued hisobservations. As he did so, he made a discovery. The soft white of hercheek was gradually becoming pinker and pinker; the color which beganunder her lace collar stole up and up until it reached her eyes,which still gazed determinedly before her.

  Sandy admired it as a traveler admires a sunrise, and with as littleidea of having caused it.

  The line of passengers moved slowly forward, and his heart sank.Suddenly his eyes fell upon the little hand-bag which she carried. Onone end, in small white letters, was: "Ruth Nelson, Kentucky, U.S.A."He watched her until she was lost to view, then he turned eagerly backinto the crowd. Elbowing his way forward, he seized Ricks by the arm.

  "Hi, there!" he cried; "I've changed me mind. I'm goin' with you toKentucky!"

  So this impetuous knight errant enlisted under the will-o'-the-wisplove, and started joyously forth upon his quest.