The Crusade of the Excelsior | Page 6

in store for us? I've been trying to convert this
business man to my easy philosophy, Miss Keene, but he is incorrigible;
he is actually lamenting his lost chance of hearing the latest news at
Mazatlan, and getting the latest market quotations, instead of offering a
thanksgiving for another uninterrupted day of freedom in this glorious
air."
With a half humorous extravagance he unloosed his already loose
necktie, turned his Byron collar still lower, and squared his shoulders
ostentatiously to the sea breeze. Accustomed as his two companions
were to his habitually extravagant speech, it did not at that moment
seem inconsistent with the intoxicating morning air and the exhilaration
of sky and wave. A breath of awakening and resurrection moved over
the face of the waters; recreation and new- born life sparkled
everywhere; the past night seemed forever buried in the vast and
exundating sea. The reefs had been shaken out, and every sail set to
catch the steadier breeze of the day; and as the quickening sun shone
upon the dazzling canvas that seemed to envelop them, they felt as if

wrapped in the purity of a baptismal robe.
Nevertheless, Miss Keene's eyes occasionally wandered from the
charming prospect towards the companion-ladder. Presently she
became ominously and ostentatiously interested in the view again, and
at the same moment a young man's head and shoulders appeared above
the companionway. With a bound he was on the slanting deck, moving
with the agility and adaptability of youth, and approached the group.
He was quite surprised to find Miss Keene there so early, and Miss
Keene was equally surprised at his appearance, notwithstanding the
phenomenon had occurred with singular regularity for the last three
weeks. The two spectators of this gentle comedy received it as they had
often received it before, with a mixture of apparent astonishment and
patronizing unconsciousness, and, after a decent interval, moved away
together, leaving the young people alone.
The hesitancy and awkwardness which usually followed the first
moments of their charming isolation were this morning more than
usually prolonged.
"It seems we are not going into Mazatlan, after all," said Miss Keene at
last, without lifting her conscious eyes from the sea.
"No," returned the young fellow quickly. "I heard all about it down
below, and we had quite an indignation meeting over it. I believe Mrs.
Markham wanted to head a deputation to wait upon the captain in his
berth. It seems that the first officer, or whosoever is running the ship,
has concluded we've lost too much time already, and we're going to
strike a bee-line for Cape St. Lucas, and give Mazatlan the go-by. We'll
save four days by it. I suppose it don't make any difference to you, Miss
Keene, does it?"
"I? Oh, no!" said the girl hastily.
"I'M rather sorry," he said hesitatingly.
"Indeed. Are you tired of the ship?" she asked saucily.

"No," he replied bluntly; "but it would have given us four more days
together--four more days before we separated."
He stopped, with a heightened color. There was a moment of silence,
and the voices of Senor Perkins and Mr. Banks in political discussion
on the other side of the deck came faintly. Miss Keene laughed.
"We are a long way from San Francisco yet, and you may think
differently."
"Never!" he said, impulsively.
He had drawn closer to her, as if to emphasize his speech. She cast a
quick glance across the deck towards the two disputants, and drew
herself gently away.
"Do you know," she said suddenly, with a charming smile which
robbed the act of its sting, "I sometimes wonder if I am REALLY going
to San Francisco. I don't know how it is; but, somehow, I never can
SEE myself there."
"I wish you did, for I'M going there," he replied boldly.
Without appearing to notice the significance of his speech, she
continued gravely:
"I have been so strongly impressed with this feeling at times that it
makes me quite superstitious. When we had that terrible storm after we
left Callao, I thought it meant that--that we were all going down, and
we should never be heard of again."
"As long as we all went together," he said, "I don't know that it would
be the worst thing that could happen. I remember that storm, Miss
Keene. And I remember"--He stopped timidly.
"What?" she replied, raising her smiling eyes for the first time to his
earnest face.
"I remember sitting up all night near your state-room, with a cork

jacket and lots of things I'd fixed up for you, and thinking I'd die before
I trusted you alone in the boat to those rascally Lascars of the crew."
"But how would you have prevented it?" asked Miss Keene, with a
compassionate and half-maternal amusement.
"I don't know