A Dream of the North Sea | Page 3

group in the roomy,
comfortable saloon. A stout, black-bearded man lounged carelessly on
a sofa, supporting himself with one huge hand as the vessel kicked
awkwardly. He looked as if he had been born with a smile, and every
line of his great face was disposed so as to express vast contentment
and good-humour. You could not call him finely bred, but when he
observed, in terrific bass tones, "Hah! Miss Dearsley, you have gazed
on the what's-his-name; you love the storm; you find it fahscinating--oh!
fahscinating; ah! fahscinating! I like an ignoble cabin and a pipe, but
the what's-his-name is fahscinating--ah! fahscinating." His infectious
good-humour was better than any graces. Then his pride in his phrases
was very fine to behold, and he regarded his repetition of his sonorous
adjective as quite an original thing in the way of pure rhetoric. Tom
Lennard was by inheritance a merchant, by choice a philanthropist; he
was naturally religious, but he could not help regarding his
philanthropic work as a great frolic, and he often scandalized reformers
of a more serious disposition. The excellent Joseph Naylor, who was
never seen to smile, and who was popularly supposed to sleep in his
black frock-coat and high stock, once met Tom on a platform. When
Tom was introduced to the prim, beneficent Joseph his enthusiasm
overcame him; he brought his colossal paw down on Mr. Naylor's
shoulder so that the poor man showed signs of shutting up like a
concertina inside the frock-coat; he squeezed Joseph's hand so fervently
that the poor victim looked like a dentist's patient, and Thomas roared
like an amiable Bull of Bashan, "Bah! Aw'm glad to see this day, sir.
To think we should meet at last! Ah! fahscinating!--oh! fahscinating."
Mr. Naylor bore the shock like a true philosopher, but at home that
evening he mildly observed, "My dear, our new ally, Mr. Lennard, is
most friendly, most cordial, quite impressively cordial; but do you
know I should not like to sign a cheque just now. His cordiality has had
distinct effect on my joints, and I wish really that his left hand were
lighter. Social intercourse can only be carried on with difficulty when
you feel as if a large sack had fallen on you from the third floor of a
warehouse."
The good Joseph always drew back with a timid air of maidenly

modesty when Tom approached him, and I quite sympathize with this
bashfulness. It has never been my fortune to exchange courtesies with a
large and healthy polar bear, so I cannot describe the operation, but I
should imagine that Tom's salute would aid one's imagination.
This delightful rough diamond called on Miss Dearsley to choose the
lee side, and then he addressed himself to a superb young fellow who
was leaning against the wainscot, and easily following the pitching of
the ship. "Look here, Ferrier, you can't find one bigot in this ship's
company, but we've all had a lot of experience, and we find that
religion's your only blasting-powder to break up the ugly old rocks that
we used to steer among. We find that we must have a clear passage; we
fix our charge. Whoof! there you are; good sailing-room;
bee-yootiful--oh! fahscinating."
"I quite follow you, and I sympathize with you so far as I am concerned
personally; but when Fullerton persuaded me to come out I only
thought of the physical condition of your people, and that is why I
asked for Mr. Blair's yacht so that I might have a genuine, fair show.
You see, I fear I am wanting in imagination, and the sight of physical
pain touches me so directly, that I never can spare a very great deal of
sympathy for that obscure sort of pain that I cannot see; I'm hand and
glove with you, of course, and I shall go through with the affair to the
finish; but you must doctor the souls, and let me attend to the bodies for
the present."
The speaker was a powerful, broad fellow, with a kind of military
carriage; his tall forehead was crossed by soft lines of tranquil thought,
and he had the unmistakable look of the true student. Lewis Ferrier
came south to Cambridge after he had done well at Edinburgh. He
might have been Senior Wrangler had he chosen, but he read
everything that he should not have read, and he was beaten slightly by a
typical examinee of the orthodox school. Still, every one knew that
Ferrier was the finest mathematician of his year, and there was much
muttering and whispering in academic corners when he decided at last
to go in for medicine. He said, "I want something practical," and that
was all the explanation he ever gave to account for his queer change.

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