At dawn Barbara awakened perfectly refreshed. She felt that she had been asleep for an indefinite length of time, and although she made a slight effort, further sleep was impossible. How long before the hour for her bath, and how stuffy their little stateroom had become! Barbara occupied the upper berth. Swinging herself a little over the side she saw that Eugenia was breathing deeply. Asleep Barbara conceded that Eugenia might almost be called handsome. Her features were well cut, her dark hair smooth and abundant, and her expression peaceful. However, even with consciousness somewhere on the other side of things Eugenia still looked like an old maid. Barbara wondered if she had ever had an admirer in her life. Although wishing to give Eugenia the benefit of the doubt, she[86] scarcely thought so. It would have made her less difficult surely!
Twice Barbara turned over and burrowed her curly brown head in her pillow. She dared not even move very strenuously for fear of waking her companion and arousing her ire. Of course, it was irritating to be awakened at daylight, but then how was she to endure the stupidity and stuffiness of their room without some entertainment? If only she could read or study her French, but there was not yet sufficient daylight, and turning on the electric light was too perilous.
Staring up at the ceiling only a few feet above her head where the life belts protruded above the white planking, Barbara had a sudden vision of what the dawn must be like at this hour upon the sea. How she longed for the rose and silver spectacle. Had she not been wishing to see the sunrise every morning since coming aboard ship? And here at last was her opportunity. Should Eugenia be disagreeable enough to awaken she must simply face the music.
[87]
Noiselessly Barbara’s bare toes were extended over the side of the berth and then she reached the floor with almost no perceptible sound. She was so tiny and light she could do things more quietly than other people. A few moments later she had on her shoes and stockings, her underclothing and her heavy coat, with the little squirrel cap over her hair. It would be cold up on deck. But one need not be particularly careful of one’s costume, since there would probably be no one about except a weary officer changing his watch. It was too early for the sailors to have begun washing the decks, else she must have heard the noise before this. Their stateroom was below the promenade deck.
As Barbara closed the outside door of their room she heard Eugenia stirring. But she slipped away without her conscience being in the least troublesome. If Eugenia was at last aroused, she would not be there to be reproached. The thought rather added zest to her enterprise. Besides, it was wrong for a trained nurse to be a sleepy-head; one ought to be awake and ready at[88] all times for emergencies. Had Barbara needed spurs to her own ideals of helpfulness in her nursing, she had found them in Eugenia’s and in Dick Thornton’s openly expressed doubts of her. Whatever came, she must make good or perish.
The deck was not inspiring. Barbara had anticipated the sunrise. Over toward the eastern line of the horizon the darkness had lifted, but as yet there was no color. The sky and water were curiously the same, a translucent gray. One felt but could not see the light beneath. The ship was making steady progress because there was now no wind and the surface of the sea appeared perfectly smooth.
For a few moments the girl walked up and down to keep warm and to wait for the dawn. Then she found her steamer chair, pulled it into such a position that it commanded an unbroken view of the horizon, and covering herself with steamer blankets, stared straight ahead.
A little later at some distance away she saw something black thrust itself above the surface of the water and then disappear. It looked like a gigantic nose.
[89]
Barbara’s breath began to come more quickly and grasping hold of the arms of her chair she half arose. But now the black object had appeared again and was coming closer to the ship. Of course, she had been thinking of a submarine. However, she could now see that the creature was being followed by a perfectly irrepressible family connection of porpoises, dipping their heads under the waves, flirting their tails in a picturesque fashion and dancing a kind of sea tango.
Then the porpoises disappeared. Calmer than she had ever imagined grew the entire face of the water, stiller the atmosphere. This was the strange moment of silence that follows the breaking of each new day. Perchance it may be nature’s time for silent prayer.
Anyhow Barbara was familiar enough with this moment on land. It is the moment in nursing the sick when one must be most watchful and strong. Then life struggles to get away from the exhausted body on strange new quests of its own. But Barbara had never faced a dawn upon the sea.
[90]
She wished now that she had called Mildred and Nona; perhaps they too would have cared for the oncoming spectacle. Then Barbara forgot herself and her soul filled with wonder. The sun had risen. It threw great streams of light across the sky like giant banners, of such colors as no army of the world has ever fought under, and these showed a second time upon the mirror of the sea. A few moments they stayed like this, and then melted together into red and violet and rose, until after a while the day’s serener blue conquered and held the sky.
Weary from the beauty and her own emotion, Barbara closed her eyes, meaning to go downstairs as soon as the sailors came on deck. However, she must have fallen asleep for a few moments. Reopening her eyes she had a distinct conviction that she must be dreaming. Undoubtedly she was seeing an impossible thing. A few feet away from her chair, forcing its way between the planks of the floor, was a small spiral column of smoke.
It could not be smoke, of course, one felt[91] convinced of that; yet it was odd that it should look and behave so much like smoke.
Barbara got herself disentangled from her steamer rugs and jumped to her feet. This was a reliable method of waking oneself up. She took a single step forward and then turned and ran along the deck to the stairway more swiftly than she had ever run in her life. She was not mistaken, it was smoke issuing from underneath the deck. Possibly this meant nothing serious, no one in the world could know less of a ship than she did. Then there was a possibility that their steamer might be on fire, when the crew must be alarmed at once. Barbara had not studied to become a trained nurse without learning coolness. Under no circumstances must she cry fire and so create a panic. She had no other conscious thought except that she must find one of the ship’s officers or sailors and give the alarm.
But before she was more than half along the companion way the girl heard a noise like the explosion of a muffled gun. Straightway she pitched face forward down[92] the steps. Nevertheless she was not hurt. The next instant she was up and running along the hall, reached the door of her own stateroom just as Eugenia flung the door open. At the same time Nona’s and Mildred’s white faces stared forth.
“Put on some clothes quickly. There has been an accident, I don’t know how serious,” Barbara commanded. But the information was scarcely necessary. Already the ship seemed alive with running feet. Commands were being shouted, while as by magic stewards were urging the passengers to be calm, insisting there was no danger. The trouble was probably not serious, yet they must be prepared.
Barbara entered her stateroom. Her pocketbook and a few valuables she must try to save in case they had to take to the life-boats.
In the middle of the room she found Eugenia Peabody in her nightgown, shaking with terror and making not the least effort to get dressed.
Barbara forgot the respect due to their chaperon. Deliberately she seized her[93] by the shoulders and began shaking her severely. It was absurd, or would have been under other circumstances. Eugenia was so much taller and larger and older than her companion that it looked as if a governess were being disciplined by a small pupil.
However, the younger girl was terribly in earnest. “Don’t lose your senses,” she protested angrily. Then darting about the tiny room in an incredible time she secured the other girl’s clothes and got her into them in a haphazard fashion.
Finally Eugenia fled to the closed door, only to be dragged back by her companion.
“Your shoes and stockings, please, Miss Peabody,” Barbara argued determinedly. “There is no immediate danger or we would be warned. Now let us find the other girls. Remember we are Red Cross nurses and not young society women.” If the ship had been sinking Barbara Meade felt that she must have fired this sarcasm. But really Eugenia was so frightened she was beginning to like her better. It was human to be frightened; she was terrified[94] herself. But it would do no good to go to pieces.
Nona and Mildred were both ready. So the four girls went together into the big saloon where all the other ship’s passengers were gathering.
The fire was not supposed to be dangerous. The men were fighting it, but they must wait to find out if it could be controlled. No, no one had an idea of what had caused the explosion.
Of course, a number of the women were crying and some of the men were white as ghosts, others were laughing foolishly.
Mrs. Curtis was distinguishing herself by having an attack of hysteria in the arms of her son. Very quietly Mildred Thornton went up and took hold of the older woman’s hand.
“Let us find a seat somewhere and talk,” she said soothingly. But Mrs. Curtis did not wait to be seated.
“You see,” she sobbed, clutching Mildred’s arm, “the explosion occurred right in our corridor. I was asleep when suddenly there was a dreadful noise and my room[95] filled with smoke. Brooks managed to get to me the next instant. No one could have felt the shock as much as I did, except Lady Dorian. Her room is across from mine and I believe she was slightly injured. Has anyone seen her?”
At this moment the second officer entered the saloon. His face was white, but his lips wore a steady, automatic smile.
“Captain Miller wishes me to inform you that there is no further danger,” he shouted. “The ‘Philadelphia’ will continue her journey to Liverpool. We have discovered the cause of the fire and the men have smothered it. The passengers will kindly return to their staterooms and breakfast will be served at as early an hour as possible.”
At this moment Barbara Meade felt a light touch on her arm. Mildred was over in a corner with Brooks Curtis and his mother; Eugenia was talking to a number of equally excited strangers. So it was Nona Davis who said:
“Don’t you think, Barbara, we might go and offer our services to Lady Dorian?[96] If she really is hurt, as Mrs. Curtis said, perhaps we may be able to do something for her. In any case I feel we ought to show our interest. She is not popular on board ship, and even if she resents our coming I think we shall have done the kindest thing.”
Barbara nodded her agreement, glancing admiringly at Nona Davis. Nona was such an embodiment of refinement in manner and appearance that it would be difficult to treat her ungraciously.