On the whole, there was no one on the "Spartacus" whom Katy liked so well as sedate little Gretchen except the dear old Captain, with whom she was a prime favorite. He gave Mrs. Ashe and herself the seats next to him at table, looked after their comfort in every possible way, and each night at dinner sent Katy one of the apple-dumplings made specially for him by the cook, who had gone many voyages with the Captain and knew his fancies. Katy did not care particularly for the dumpling, but she valued it as a mark of regard, and always ate it when she could.
Meanwhile, every morning brought a fresh surprise from that dear, painstaking Rose, who had evidently worked hard and thought harder in contriving pleasures for Katy"s first voyage at sea. Mrs. Barrett was enlisted in the plot, there could be no doubt of that, and enjoyed the joke as much as any one, as she presented herself each day with the invariable formula, "A letter for you, ma"am," or "A bundle, Miss, come by the Parcels Delivery." On the fourth morning it was a photograph of Baby Rose, in a little flat morocco case. The fifth brought a wonderful epistle, full of startling pieces of news, none of them true. On the sixth appeared a long narrow box containing a fountain pen. Then came Mr. Howells"s "A Foregone Conclusion," which Katy had never seen; then a box of quinine pills; then a sachet for her trunk; then another burlesque poem; last of all, a cake of delicious violet soap, "to wash the sea-smell from her hands," the label said. It grew to be one of the little excitements of ship life to watch for the arrival of these daily gifts; and "What did the mail bring for you this time, Miss Carr?" was a question frequently asked. Each arrival Katy thought must be the final one; but Rose"s forethought had gone so far even as to provide an extra parcel in case the voyage was a day longer than usual, and "Miss Carr"s mail" continued to come in till the very last morning.
Katy never forgot the thrill that went through her when, after so many days of sea, her eyes first caught sight of the dim line of the Irish coast. An exciting and interesting day followed as, after stopping at Queenstown to leave the mails, they sped northeastward between sh.o.r.es which grew more distinct and beautiful with every hour,--on one side Ireland, on the other the bold mountain lines of the Welsh coast. It was late afternoon when they entered the Mersey, and dusk had fallen before the Captain got out his gla.s.s to look for the white fluttering speck in his own window which meant so much to him. Long he studied before he made quite sure that it was there. At last he shut the gla.s.s with a satisfied air.
"It"s all right," he said to Katy, who stood near, almost as much interested as he. "Lucy never forgets, bless her! Well, there"s another voyage over and done with, thank G.o.d, and my Mary is where she was. It"s a load taken from my mind."
The moon had risen and was shining softly on the river as the crowded tender landed the pa.s.sengers from the "Spartacus" at the Liverpool docks.
"We shall meet again in London or in Paris," said one to another, and cards and addresses were exchanged. Then after a brief delay at the Custom House they separated, each to his own particular destination; and, as a general thing, none of them ever saw any of the others again.
It is often thus with those who have been fellow voyagers at sea; and it is always a surprise and perplexity to inexperienced travellers that it can be so, and that those who have been so much to each other for ten days can melt away into s.p.a.ce and disappear as though the brief intimacy had never existed.
"Four-wheeler or hansom, ma"am?" said a porter to Mrs. Ashe.
"Which, Katy?"
"Oh, let us have a hansom! I never saw one, and they look so nice in "Punch.""
So a hansom cab was called, the two ladies got in, Amy cuddled down between them, the folding-doors were shut over their knees like a lap-robe, and away they drove up the solidly paved streets to the hotel where they were to pa.s.s the night. It was too late to see or do anything but enjoy the sense of being on firm land once more.
"How lovely it will be to sleep in a bed that doesn"t tip or roll from side to side!" said Mrs. Ashe.
"Yes, and that is wide enough and long enough and soft enough to be comfortable!" replied Katy. "I feel as if I could sleep for a fortnight to make up for the bad nights at sea."
Everything seemed delightful to her,--the s.p.a.ce for undressing, the great tub of fresh water which stood beside the English-looking washstand with its ample basin and ewer, the chintz-curtained bed, the coolness, the silence,--and she closed her eyes with the pleasant thought in her mind, "It is really England and we are really here!"
CHAPTER V.
STORYBOOK ENGLAND.
"Oh, is it raining?" was Katy"s first question next morning, when the maid came to call her. The pretty room, with its gayly flowered chintz, and china, and its bra.s.s bedstead, did not look half so bright as when lit with gas the night before; and a dim gray light struggled in at the window, which in America would certainly have meant bad weather coming or already come.
"Oh no, h"indeed, ma"am, it"s a very fine day,--not bright, ma"am, but very dry," was the answer.
Katy couldn"t imagine what the maid meant, when she peeped between the curtains and saw a thick dull mist lying over everything, and the pavements opposite her window shining with wet. Afterwards, when she understood better the peculiarities of the English climate, she too learned to call days not absolutely rainy "fine," and to be grateful for them; but on that first morning her sensations were of bewildered surprise, almost vexation.
Mrs. Ashe and Amy were waiting in the coffee-room when she went in search of them.
"What shall we have for breakfast," asked Mrs. Ashe,--"our first meal in England? Katy, you order it."
"Let"s have all the things we have read about in books and don"t have at home," said Katy, eagerly. But when she came to look over the bill of fare there didn"t seem to be many such things. Soles and m.u.f.fins she finally decided upon, and, as an after-thought, gooseberry jam.
"m.u.f.fins sound so very good in d.i.c.kens, you know," she explained to Mrs.
Ashe; "and I never saw a sole."
The soles when they came proved to be nice little pan-fish, not unlike what in New England are called "scup." All the party took kindly to them; but the m.u.f.fins were a great disappointment, tough and tasteless, with a flavor about them as of scorched flannel.
"How queer and disagreeable they are!" said Katy. "I feel as if I were eating rounds cut from an old ironing-blanket and b.u.t.tered! Dear me!
what did d.i.c.kens mean by making such a fuss about them, I wonder? And I don"t care for gooseberry jam, either; it isn"t half as good as the jams we have at home. Books are very deceptive."
"I am afraid they are. We must make up our minds to find a great many things not quite so nice as they sound when we read about them," replied Mrs. Ashe.
Mabel was breakfasting with them, of course, and was heard to remark at this juncture that she didn"t like m.u.f.fins, either, and would a great deal rather have waffles; whereupon Amy reproved her, and explained that n.o.body in England knew what waffles were, they were such a stupid nation, and that Mabel must learn to eat whatever was given her and not find fault with it!
After this moral lesson it was found to be dangerously near train-time; and they all hurried to the railroad station, which, fortunately, was close by. There was rather a scramble and confusion for a few moments; for Katy, who had undertaken to buy the tickets, was puzzled by the unaccustomed coinage; and Mrs. Ashe, whose part was to see after the luggage, found herself perplexed and worried by the absence of checks, and by no means disposed to accept the porter"s statement, that if she"d only bear in mind that the trunks were in the second van from the engine, and get out to see that they were safe once or twice during the journey, and call for them as soon as they reached London, she"d have no trouble,--"please remember the porter, ma"am!" However all was happily settled at last; and without any serious inconveniences they found themselves established in a first-cla.s.s carriage, and presently after running smoothly at full speed across the rich English midlands toward London and the eastern coast.
The extreme greenness of the October landscape was what struck them first, and the wonderfully orderly and trim aspect of the country, with no ragged, stump-dotted fields or reaches of wild untended woods. Late in October as it was, the hedgerows and meadows were still almost summer-like in color, though the trees were leafless. The delightful-looking old manor-houses and farm-houses, of which they had glimpses now and again, were a constant pleasure to Katy, with their mullioned windows, twisted chimney-stacks, porches of quaint build, and thick-growing ivy. She contrasted them with the uncompromising ugliness of farm-houses which she remembered at home, and wondered whether it could be that at the end of another thousand years or so, America would have picturesque buildings like these to show in addition to her picturesque scenery.
Suddenly into the midst of these reflections there glanced a picture so vivid that it almost took away her breath, as the train steamed past a pack of hounds in full cry, followed by a galloping throng of scarlet-coated huntsmen. One horse and rider were in the air, going over a wall. Another was just rising to the leap. A string of others, headed by a lady, were tearing across a meadow bounded by a little brook, and beyond that streamed the hounds following the invisible fox. It was like one of Muybridge"s instantaneous photographs of "The Horse in Motion,"
for the moment that it lasted; and Katy put it away in her memory, distinct and brilliant, as she might a real picture.
Their destination in London was Batt"s Hotel in Dover Street. The old gentleman on the "Spartacus," who had "crossed" so many times, had furnished Mrs. Ashe with a number of addresses of hotels and lodging-houses, from among which Katy had chosen Batt"s for the reason that it was mentioned in Miss Edgeworth"s "Patronage." "It was the place," she explained, "where G.o.dfrey Percy didn"t stay when Lord Oldborough sent him the letter." It seemed an odd enough reason for going anywhere that a person in a novel didn"t stay there. But Mrs. Ashe knew nothing of London, and had no preference of her own; so she was perfectly willing to give Katy hers, and Batt"s was decided upon.
"It is just like a dream or a story," said Katy, as they drove away from the London station in a four-wheeler. "It is really ourselves, and this is really London! Can you imagine it?"
She looked out. Nothing met her eyes but dingy weather, muddy streets, long rows of ordinary brick or stone houses. It might very well have been New York or Boston on a foggy day, yet to her eyes all things had a subtle difference which made them unlike similar objects at home.
"Wimpole Street!" she cried suddenly, as she caught sight of the name on the corner; "that is the street where Maria Crawford in Mansfield Park, you know, "opened one of the best houses" after she married Mr.
Rushworth. Think of seeing Wimpole Street! What fun!" She looked eagerly out after the "best houses," but the whole street looked uninteresting and old-fashioned; the best house to be seen was not of a kind, Katy thought, to reconcile an ambitious young woman to a dull husband. Katy had to remind herself that Miss Austen wrote her novels nearly a century ago, that London was a "growing" place, and that things were probably much changed since that day.
More "fun" awaited them when they arrived at Batt"s, and exactly such a landlady sailed forth to welcome them as they had often met with in books,--an old landlady, smiling and rubicund, with a towering lace cap on her head, a flowered silk gown, a gold chain, and a pair of fat mittened hands demurely crossed over a black brocade ap.r.o.n. She alone would have been worth crossing the ocean to see, they all declared.
Their telegram had been received, and rooms were ready, with a bright, smoky fire of soft coals; the dinner-table was set, and a nice, formal, white-cravated old waiter, who seemed to have stepped out of the same book with the landlady, was waiting to serve it. Everything was dingy and old-fashioned, but very clean and comfortable; and Katy concluded that on the whole G.o.dfrey Percy would have done wisely to go to Batt"s, and could have fared no better at the other hotel where he did stay.
The first of Katy"s "London sights" came to her next morning before she was out of her bedroom. She heard a bell ring and a queer squeaking little voice utter a speech of which she could not make out a single word. Then came a laugh and a shout, as if several boys were amused at something or other; and altogether her curiosity was roused, so that she finished dressing as fast as she could, and ran to the drawing-room window which commanded a view of the street. Quite a little crowd was collected under the window, and in their midst was a queer box raised high on poles, with little red curtains tied back on either side to form a miniature stage, on which puppets were moving and vociferating. Katy knew in a moment that she was seeing her first Punch and Judy!
The box and the crowd began to move away. Katy in despair ran to Wilkins, the old waiter who was setting the breakfast-table.
"Oh, please stop that man!" she said. "I want to see him."
"What man is it, Miss?" said Wilkins.
When he reached the window and realized what Katy meant, his sense of propriety seemed to receive a severe shock. He even ventured on remonstrance.
"H"I wouldn"t, Miss, h"if h"I was you. Them Punches are a low lot, Miss; they h"ought to be put down, really they h"ought. Gentlefolks, h"as a general thing, pays no h"attention to them."
But Katy didn"t care what "gentlefolks" did or did not do, and insisted upon having Punch called back. So Wilkins was forced to swallow his remonstrances and his dignity, and go in pursuit of the objectionable object. Amy came rushing out, with her hair flying and Mabel in her arms; and she and Katy had a real treat of Punch and Judy, with all the well-known scenes, and perhaps a few new ones thrown in for their especial behoof; for the showman seemed to be inspired by the rapturous enjoyment of his little audience of three at the first-floor windows.
Punch beat Judy and stole the baby, and Judy banged Punch in return, and the constable came in and Punch outwitted him, and the hangman and the devil made their appearance duly; and it was all perfectly satisfactory, and "just exactly what she hoped it would be, and it quite made up for the m.u.f.fins," Katy declared.
Then, when Punch had gone away, the question arose as to what they should choose, out of the many delightful things in London, for their first morning.
Like ninety-nine Americans out of a hundred, they decided on Westminster Abbey; and indeed there is nothing in England better worth seeing, or more impressive, in its dim, rich antiquity, to eyes fresh from the world which still calls itself "new." So to the Abbey they went, and lingered there till Mrs. Ashe declared herself to be absolutely dropping with fatigue.
"If you don"t take me home and give me something to eat," she said, "I shall drop down on one of these pedestals and stay there and be exhibited forever after as an "h"effigy" of somebody belonging to ancient English history."
So Katy tore herself away from Henry the Seventh and the Poets" Corner, and tore Amy away from a quaint little tomb shaped like a cradle, with the marble image of a baby in it, which had greatly taken her fancy. She could only be consoled by the promise that she should soon come again and stay as long as she liked. She reminded Katy of this promise the very next morning.