jerome braced himself and stared out. occasionally a wave would slap against the glass. he had let the fishing boats go without him. now he was at sea!
he was bewildered, then scared, then more scared. yet underneath it all a queer little wisp of daring insinuated itself—something almost akin to self-congratulation; and the whimsical query leapt: “has the whole business of oaks-ferguson’s been a dream, and did i go to sea after all?”
the first terrible and confusing instant behind him, panic was dominant again, and he reeled away to explore his dilemma. jerking open the door of the tiny cabin, which appeared to be nothing more nor less than a supply closet, he emerged into a stuffy corridor and groped his way toward a flight of steps ahead which led up into daylight. as jerome groped toward the light it may be intimated that his mental complex was one which must defy the most patient attempt at analysis. when he came out at last on deck, the whole awful, wonderful, terrifying truth flared up like a rocket: this was the skipping goone, and he was launched, along with the rest, on xenophon curry’s great world tour.
as for its being the skipping goone, there could be no shadow of doubt; for here, as in a vision, with lurid sunset in their still excited faces, were all his new theatrical friends. he beheld at once a throng and each separate face. there stood xenophon curry in his palm beach suit and gay adornments, like an amazed exotic potentate, gazing at him with dropped jaw. there was the comedian, who always treated him with such irreproachable respect, gazing[78] too. and there, with a sun-tinted sail behind her, looking, he thought, just like some radiant goddess, was lili. she wasn’t beaming now, simply gazing like the rest. there was a space of perfectly blank silence, as jerome stood there before them. it was decidedly an awful moment.
curry was the first to break through. “good lord, boy!” he cried, making futile gestures and taking almost equally futile steps toward the very substantial looking apparition.
next to break through were two singers, tony and alfredo, who amazed everybody by suddenly beginning to hurl italian at each other in torrents. jerome, of course, couldn’t understand a word they said, although, even in the midst of all the confusion, he felt somehow certain that what they were hurling directly concerned this startling mystery of which he had so abruptly become the centre.
curry was grasping his arm. “how did you get aboard?” he cried, a look of honest amazement supreme, now, in his so warmly expressive face.
“i don’t know, sir,” replied jerome in a rather weak and husky voice.
genuine pandemonium set in. it was almost a riot. but gradually, as some semblance of law and order returned, tony riforto was made out adjuring alfredo manuele with the full solemnity of a wagging forefinger:
“you’ve got to help me think, i tell you! how can you expect me to figure the whole thing out myself?”
“figure what?” voices demanded.
“good lord!” exclaimed curry, “i begin to see—you took him in tow—yes, it was you two—at girardin’s—in the confusion of closing—what then?”
“what then?” spluttered alfredo. he seemed to grasp at a ray of hope. “there was a cab!”
“that’s it!” cried the other in exultation. “i begin to remember something—we had to take him somewhere—he’d caved in. i remember—”
“yes,” brightened alfredo, “we couldn’t take him home.[79] it would never have done, maestro—and that’s the truth indeed!”
no, it would never have done, as he seemed to imply, to wake up a trustful and unsuspecting family to such a spectacle as the clerk had then presented. no one would have had the heart.
“he had fallen under the table, maestro!”
“besides, how did we know where he lived?”
“but what then?” asked curry, his face crowded more than ever with a real desperation of concern.
“tony,” muttered alfredo weakly, “how was it after that?”
“wait a minute!” commanded tony solemnly. “maestro, we thought it would be best to bring him aboard for the night!”
“yes, yes!” the other brightened. “how it all comes back to me! a few hours sleep on the schooner, and then....”
from the vicinity of the comedian something strangely like an incipient chuckle was detected.
“well, maestro,” faltered tony ruefully, scarcely daring to look at the victim at all, “after that—after that....”
but it was all too plain at length. “for you see,” as alfredo appended in his dire extremity, “we were in so much the same fix ourselves!”
they stood aghast at what they had done. everybody stood aghast. there seemed something almost cataclysmic about jerome’s being here in their midst instead of back in san francisco where he belonged.
but at length delightful lili, who had by this time shed her amazement and awe (as in the living presence of a ghost) and had begun to beam in quite her accustomed manner, cried out: “the old dear!” and made for jerome, her heart seeming vaguely touched at the expression on his face. it was lili who really introduced the first ray of cheer and serenity and humour into the situation.
she seized his hand. it was a perfectly solid hand. she had held it before. even had she had lingering suspicions[80] they were now dispelled. this was no ghost. no, it was the clerk himself.
and then, somehow, the humour of it all took possession of the throng, and lili led him about, and welcome, almost congratulation, was showered upon him. as for jerome, while explanations were in progress he had looked greener and greener; but now a grin was emerging. it was at first a pretty sickly grin, but it helped lighten the awfulness of his position.
he had to grasp at things to keep his balance—not because he was still unsteady himself, but because the schooner was performing such violent antics; a panic he dared not profess made him somewhat faint. they would never cease tormenting were the fact to come out, after his boasting the night before, that the man who had danced the sailor’s hornpipe so convincingly was scared. he grinned instead; and the longer he grinned, the easier, as a matter of fact, it became. for the present, indeed, there was nothing else he could do.
“ain’t it just too rich?” giggled lili, beaming upon him with her gay, widening eyes.
