The art of advertising being then in its swaddling-bands, this specimen of it struck its hearers as really creditable. While it was being read two or three men rose, and one, uncommonly s.h.a.ggy and of towering height, could hardly wait for the last word before he responded with the voice of a hound on the trail: "By the Lord Harry, sis", amen! says I, that"s jest my size! I"m a Babtis" exhorteh an" I know the theatre air the mouth o" h.e.l.l, but ef you play-acto"s good enough to run a prah-meet"n, I"m bad enough to go to it. Come on, gentle_men_, the whole k"boodle of us, come on."
Some brightly, some darkly, a good halfdozen followed him into the cabin; but the most remained seated, staring at Ramsey from head to foot and back again, some brightly, some darkly, while the bell persevered behind her. She sunk to her knees in the chair. Gilmore addressed that half of the company on his side of her: "Please a.s.semble at once, will you, all, in the ladies" cabin."
And his wife, on her side, repeated: "Will you all please a.s.semble at once in the ladies" cabin."
A few more rose, but still the many, brightly or darkly, only stared on, the bell persisting. The kneeling Ramsey again began to read:
"Fellow travellers: Please a.s.semble at once in the ladies" cabin to supplicate the divine mercy for a stay of the scourge on this boat, and in concerted worship----"
"Oh, well!" some one laughingly broke in, "if that"s your game--" and the whole company, in good-natured surrender, arose and went in. But the "bell-ringers," as they were promptly nicknamed, pa.s.sed on to further conquests.
When at length they turned to join the a.s.semblage the four had doubled their number. With Ramsey was the commodore. With the actor was Watson.
With Mrs. Gilmore came old Joy, and, strange to tell, due to some magic in the tact of the senior Courteneys, the senator, no longer making botch work of his guile, walked with Hugh, displaying a good-natured loquacity which he was glad to have every one notice and from which he ceased reluctantly as they parted, finding no place to sit together. The player and his wife, over-looking the throng, complacently discovered standing-room only, and the meeting which Hayle"s daughter had pledged herself and them to "run" was running itself. For hardly had they entered the saloon when, from a front seat and without warning, the exhorter exploded the stalwart old hymn-tune of "Kentucky," and soon all but a scant dozen of the company followed in full cry, though hardly with the fulness of the leader"s voice, that rolled through the cabin like tropical thunder:
""Whedn I cadn read my ti-tle cle-ah Toe madn-shudns idn the-e ske-ies I"ll bid fah-wedl toe ev"-rye fe-ah Adn wipe my weep-ign eyes.""
From the chairman"s seat the actor kept a corner of one eye on Ramsey and as the hymn"s last line rolled away he stood up. She had not sung, but neither had she laughed. No one could have seen the moment"s huge grotesqueness larger, yet to the relief of many she had kept her poise.
In her mind was the bishop, overhead in the texas, consciously imperilling his life to save her brother"s soul, and in the face of all drolleries she strenuously kept her ardor centred on the gravest significancies of the hour, as if the bishop"s success up there hung on the efficiency with which this work of his earlier appointment should be done, down here, in his absence. She saw in the exhorter a tragic as well as comic problem. Nor was he her only perplexity. Another, she feared, might easily arise through some clash of any two kinds of worshippers each devoted to its own set forms. Certain main features, she knew, had been carefully prearranged, yet as the actor stood silent about to ask the Vicksburger to lead in prayer she tingled with all the exhilaration a ruder soul might have felt in hunting ferocious game or in fighting fire. Her soul rose a-tiptoe for the moment when the Presbyterians, who also had not sung, should stand up to pray, while the few Episcopalians, kneeling forward, and the many Baptists and Methodists, kneeling to the rear, should find themselves face to face--nose to nose, anxiously thought Ramsey--with only the open backs of the chairs between. She was herself the last to kneel, kneeling forward but doubting if she ought not to face the other way, hardly knowing whether she was a Catholic or a Methodist; and she was much the last to close her eyes. But the various postures were taken without a jar and the modest Vicksburger prayed. His words were neither impromptu nor printed, but, as every one quickly perceived and Ramsey had known beforehand, were memorized and were fresh from the pen of the actor.
Diffidence warped the first phrase or two, but soon each word came clear, warm from the heart, and reaching all hearts, however borne back by the rapturous yells with which the exhorter broke in at every pause.
"And though to our own sight," pleaded the supplicant, "we are but atoms in thy boundless creation, we yet believe that prayer offered thee in love, humility, and trust cannot offend. Wherefore in this extremity of grief and disaster we implore thee for deliverance."
Close at Ramsey"s back, in the only seat whose occupant her diligent eye had failed to light on, a kneeler heaved a sigh so piteous that it startled her like an alarum.
But the prayer went on: "Drive from us, O Lord, this pestilence. Allow it no more toll of life or agony. Have mercy on us all, both the sick and the sound."
"Have mercy," moaned the suffering voice behind, and Ramsey, suffering with it, wished she had been Methodist enough to kneel with her face that way.
"Spare not our earthly lives alone," continued the supplicant, "but save our immortal souls. Pardon in us every error of the present moment and of all our past. Forgive us every fault of character inherited or acquired."
"G.o.d, forgive!" sighed the voice behind, in so keen a contrition that Ramsey, while the supplication in front pressed on, found herself in tears of her own penitence. The mourner at her back began responsively to repeat each word of the prayer as it came and presently Ramsey was doing likewise, striving the while, with all her powers, to determine whose might be the voice which distress so evidently disguised even from its owner.
"Enable us, our Maker," she pleaded in time with the voice behind, that followed the voice in front, "henceforth to grow in thy likeness, and in thy strength to devote ourselves joyfully to the true and diligent service of the world wherein thou hast set us. Grant us, moreover, we pray, such faith in thee and to thee that in every peril or woe, to-day, to-morrow, or in years to come, we may without doubt or fear commit all we have, are, and hope for, temporal or immortal, alike unto thee. And, finally, we beg thee to grant us in this immediate issue a courage for ourselves and compa.s.sion for all others which, come what may, living or dying, will gird us so to acquit ourselves that in the end we may stand before thee unashamed and by thy mercy and thy love be welcomed into thine own eternal joy."
"Amen!" cried the exhorter and burst anew into song:
""Chidl-dredn of the-e heabm-lye kiggn, As we jour-nye sweet-lye siggn.
Siggn----""
He ceased and flashed a glance, first up to Hugh, whose hand lay on his shoulder, and then over to the standing player. A hush was on the reseated company, and its united gaze on Ramsey and the mourner who with her had been audibly following the prayer. Two seats from her Mrs.
Gilmore vainly tried to catch her eye. The penitent was in his seat again. He bent low forward, his face in his hands, and face and hands hid in his thick fair locks. Ramsey had turned toward him with a knee in her chair, a handkerchief pressed fiercely against her lips, and her drowned eyes gazing down on him. But as the actor was about to speak she wheeled toward him and stood with an arm beseechingly thrown out, her voice breaking in her throat.
XXVI
ALARM AND DISTRESS
"It"s Basile!" she cried. Then, one after another, to the exhorter, to Hugh, to each of the two Gilmores separately: "This is wrong, all wrong!
You said we mustn"t alarm or distress any one--and we mustn"t!" She tried to face her chair round to the bowed head, and Hugh, at a touch from his grandfather, moved to her aid. Mrs. Gilmore too had started but was kept back by others, whispering with her on the edges of their seats.
"It"s all wrong," insisted Ramsey to Hugh close at hand, "and we mustn"t do it! You said we mustn"t!"
The exhorter was gratified, not to say flattered. "H-it ain"t none of it wrong, my young sisteh," he called across. "Ef yo" bretheh"s distress ah the fear o" d.a.m.nation it"s all right and Gawd"s name be pra-aised!"
"Amen!" groaned one or two of the undistressed majority, while old Joy modestly pressed up from the rear.
"Please, good ladies an" gen"lemens," she said as she came, "will you please fo" to lem-me thoo, ef you please? Dat"s my young mahsteh, what I done nu"s" f"om a baby. Ef you please"m, will you please suh, fo" to lem-me pa.s.s, ef you please?" In gentle haste she made her way, many eyes following, and heads swinging right and left to see around the heads that came between. The goal was reached just as Ramsey, in her turned seat, leaned to lay fond hands on her brother"s locks. But Hugh interposed an arm.
"No," he said, "we mustn"t do that either."
"No!" said Joy, "dat"s right! Fo" de Lawd"s sake tek heh clean away--ef you kin. An" ef you please, good ladies an" gen"lemens, fo" to squeeze back a leetle mite----?"
They squeezed the mite and she knelt by the boy. The sister knelt too, but as she left her chair Hugh, taking it, put himself between her and her brother. The actor was the only one left standing.
"Sing, will you, please," he said--"and will you all sing
""There is a land of pure delight--"
Mrs. Gilmore, will you raise the tune?"
But the exhorter was too quick for them and "riz" it before the request was fairly uttered. All sang, and over all easily soared the voice of the zealot:
""Thah is a ladnd o" pyo" de-light Whah saidnts ib-maw-tudl reigdn.
Idn-fidn-ite day dis-pedls the-e night Adn pleas-u"es badn-ish paidn.""
Now he rolled his enraptured eyes and now his quid, spat freely on the rich carpet, beat time on one big palm with the other and on the floor with one vast foot, while through the song like a lifeboat through waves, undisturbed and undisturbing, cleft the steady speech of the nurse to the boy. Regardless of the precaution just urged for Ramsey, her arm fell over his bowed form.
""Thah eveh-last-ign sprign a-bi-dns Adn nev-eh with-"rign flow-ehs--""
--ran the hymn, and straight through it, heard everywhere, pressed mammy Joy"s tearful inquiry:
"Is you got religion, honey boy, aw is you on"y got de sickness? Tell me, honey, which you got? Is you got bofe?"
The lad moaned, shook his head, and suddenly sat up, and cried to his kneeling and gazing sister: "Neither! Great G.o.d, I"m not ready for either!"--his words, like old Joy"s, cutting squarely across the hymn as it continued:
""Death like a nor-rah streabm di-vi-dns This heab"-mly ladnd frobm ow-ehs.""
Ramsey stood. "Well, don"t be alarmed or distressed!" she half laughed, half wept, while the nurse crooned:
"Honey boy, ef you ain"t yit got de sickness----"
"I don"t know!" he cried, so loudly that only the Methodists and Baptists sang on. He sprang up and glanced round to the judge, the general, the squire, the senator, exclaiming: "I"ve been right in it!--to get back that infernal pet.i.tion of yours when I dropped it! I"ve all but touched the dying and the dead! I"ve been handled all over by men who"d been handling them! Whatever I"ve caught from them I"ll know is a judgment! For at last I"ve got a sense of sin! Right down under here behind this boat"s engines I got it! I want you-all people to pray for me! I"ve been an awful sinner for years!"
"So have I!" wept Ramsey aloud.