"The hit of the evening! You! Singing!"
"I"m not going to sing. I"m going to do that imitation of Frank Tinney which I did at the Trinity smoker. You haven"t forgotten that? You were at the piano taking the part of the conductor of the orchestra. What a riot I was--we were! I say, Eustace, old man, I suppose you don"t feel well enough to come up now and take your old part? You could do it without a rehearsal. You remember how it went.... "Hullo, Ernest!"
"Hullo, Frank!" Why not come along?"
"The only piano I will ever sit at will be one firmly fixed on a floor that does not heave and wobble under me."
"Nonsense! The boat"s as steady as a rock now. The sea"s like a mill-pond."
"Nevertheless, thanking you for your suggestion, no!"
"Oh, well, then I shall have to get on as best I can with that fellow Mortimer. We"ve been rehearsing all the afternoon, and he seems to have the hang of the thing. But he won"t be really right. He has no pep, no vim. Still, if you won"t ... well, I think I"ll be getting along to his state-room. I told him I would look in for a last rehearsal."
The door closed behind Sam, and Eustace Hignett, lying on his back, gave himself up to melancholy meditation. He was deeply disturbed by his cousin"s sad story. He knew what it meant being engaged to Wilhelmina Bennett. It was like being taken aloft in a balloon and dropped with a thud on the rocks.
His reflections were broken by the abrupt opening of the door. Sam rushed in. Eustace peered anxiously out of his berth. There was too much burnt cork on his cousin"s face to allow of any real registering of emotion, but he could tell from his manner that all was not well.
"What"s the matter?"
Sam sank down on the lounge.
"The bounder has quit!"
"The bounder? What bounder?"
"There is only one! Bream Mortimer, curse him! There may be others whom thoughtless critics rank as bounders, but he is the only man really deserving of the t.i.tle. He refuses to appear! He has walked out on the act! He has left me flat! I went into his state-room just now, as arranged, and the man was lying on his bunk, groaning."
"I thought you said the sea was like a mill-pond."
"It wasn"t that! He"s perfectly fit. But it seems that the silly a.s.s took it into his head to propose to Billie just before dinner--apparently he"s loved her for years in a silent, self-effacing way--and of course she told him that she was engaged to me, and the thing upset him to such an extent that he says the idea of sitting down at a piano and helping me give an imitation of Frank Tinney revolts him.
He says he intends to spend the evening in bed, reading Schopenhauer I hope it chokes him!"
"But this is splendid! This lets you out."
"What do you mean? Lets me out?"
"Why, now you won"t be able to appear. Oh, you will be thankful for this in years to come."
"Won"t I appear! Won"t I dashed well appear! Do you think I"m going to disappoint that dear girl when she is relying on me? I would rather die."
"But you can"t appear without a pianist."
"I"ve got a pianist."
"You have?"
"Yes. A little undersized shrimp of a fellow with a green face and ears like water-wings."
"I don"t think I know him."
"Yes, you do. He"s you!"
"Me!"
"Yes, you. You are going to sit at the piano to-night."
"I"m sorry to disappoint you, but it"s impossible. I gave you my views on the subject just now."
"You"ve altered them."
"I haven"t."
"Well, you soon will, and I"ll tell you why. If you don"t get up out of that d.a.m.ned berth you"ve been roosting in all your life, I"m going to ring for J. B. Midgeley and I"m going to tell him to bring me a bit of dinner in here and I"m going to eat it before your eyes."
"But you"ve had dinner."
"Well, I"ll have another. I feel just ready for a nice fat pork chop...."
"Stop! Stop!"
"A nice fat pork chop with potatoes and lots of cabbage," repeated Sam firmly. "And I shall eat it here on this very lounge. Now how do we go?"
"You wouldn"t do that!" said Eustace piteously.
"I would and will."
"But I shouldn"t be any good at the piano. I"ve forgotten how the thing used to go."
"You haven"t done anything of the kind. I come in and say "Hullo, Ernest!" and you say "Hullo, Frank!" and then you help me tell the story about the Pullman car. A child could do your part of it."
"Perhaps there is some child on board...."
"No. I want you. I shall feel safe with you. We"ve done it together before."
"But, honestly, I really don"t think ... it isn"t as if...."
Sam rose and extended a finger towards the bell.
"Stop! Stop!" cried Eustace Hignett. "I"ll do it!"
Sam withdrew his finger.
"Good!" he said. "We"ve just got time for a rehearsal while you"re dressing. "Hullo, Ernest!""
""Hullo, Frank,"" said Eustace Hignett brokenly as he searched for his unfamiliar trousers.
CHAPTER VI