Story of Chester Lawrence | Page 8

it could be seen so full and
interesting all around.
A day on ship-board is longer than one on shore, and provision must be
made to pass it pleasantly. If the weather is fair, this is quite a problem.
Of course, there are the meals in the well-appointed dining saloon.
They break pleasantly into the long monotony. Then there are the deck
games; the watching for "whales" and passing vessels; the looking at
the spinning log in the foaming water at the stern; the marking of the
chart, which indicates the distance traversed during the twenty-four
hours; the visit to the steerage and the "stoke hole," or boiler room in
the depths of the ship; and last, but not least, the getting acquainted
with one's fellow passengers. "Steamer friendships" are easily made,
and in most cases, soon forgotten. The little world of people speeding
across the deep from shore to shore, is bound together closely for a few
days, and then, its inhabitants scatter.
Chester Lawrence was enjoying every hour of the voyage. On that day
practically all sea-sickness had gone. The vacant places at the tables
were being filled and the company looked around at each other with
pleasant contentment. The steamship company no longer saved on the
provisions. The chatty old gentleman at Chester's right was back again
after a short absence, and the power of speech had come to the demure
lady on his left, with the return of her appetite.
Two places opposite Chester were still vacant at the table. That day as
the crowd hastily answered the dinner gong, Chester, being a little
tardy, encountered an elderly man and what appeared to be his daughter
making their way slowly down the companionway towards the dining

room. Chester saw at a glance that neither of them was strong, but both
tried to appear able and were bound to help each other. He smiled at
their well-meaning endeavors, then without asking leave, took the
man's free arm and helped him down the steps, saying,
"You haven't quite got your sea-legs yet--Now then, steady, and we'll
soon be there. Get a good dinner, and that will help."
The steward showed them to the two seats opposite Chester which had
been vacant so long.
"Thank you very much," said the girl to Chester, with a smile, when the
elderly man was well seated. Chester bowed without replying, then
went around the table to his own seat.
Somehow that gracious little smile had made Chester's heart flutter for
an instant. As he realized it, he said to himself, "What's the matter with
me? Am I getting foolish? It was, certainly a sweet smile, and the
thanks were gracious, too; but what of it?" The first courses were being
served. She was sitting opposite him, just a few feet away. He might
take a good look at the girl to see if there was anything uncommon
about her. He looked down the table, glancing just for an instant
opposite. No; there was nothing striking, or to be disturbed about. The
girl was still solicitous over her companion, meanwhile eating a little
herself. "I musn't be rude, thought Chester, and then looked again
across the table. The man was past middle age. His face was clean
shaven, and he was dressed in the garb of a minister. He was a preacher,
then. The girl had evidently suffered much from sea-sickness, because
her face was pale and somewhat pinched, though there was a tinge of
red in her cheeks. That's a pretty chin, and a lovely mouth--and, well,
now, what is the matter! Chester Lawrence, attend to your chicken."
The minister and his daughter did not remain for the dessert. As they
arose, he said:
"Now, that's pretty good for the first time, isn't it?"
"Yes, father, it is," she replied. "You're getting on famously. Shall we

try the deck for a while?"
"Yes; it will do us both good to get into the air. Run along into your
room for a wrap."
Chester was tempted to leave his dinner to help them again; but he
resisted the temptation. They walked quite firmly now, and as they
entered the passageway, the girl glancing back into the room, met
Chester's eyes and smiled once more. Again Chester's heart fluttered. It
would have been a cold, hardened heart indeed not to have responded
to such an appeal.
CHAPTER III.
On the morning of the fourth day out, Chester Lawrence stood
watching the antics of a young man, who, coatless and hatless, and
made brave by too many visits to the bar, was running up the rope
ladders of the mast to a dangerous height. He climbed up to where the
ladder met the one on the other side, down which he scrambled with the
agility of a