Irma in Italy: A Travel Story Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  AWAY FROM GIBRALTAR

  As the _Ariadne_ steamed away from Gibraltar, the harbor looked veryunlike that of the afternoon. It was now cool, and dark except when litby flashes from the searchlights. The warships that had looked so sombrein the afternoon were now outlined by rows of tiny electric lights, andmyriads of lights twinkled from the town lying along the face of theRock.

  With so much beauty outside, Irma could not leave the deck of the_Ariadne_. As she stood there alone, the little old gentlemanapproached. "There is to be a sham fight in the harbor to-night. Thataccounts for the unusual illumination."

  "It is too beautiful for words. I must stay until we see the other faceof the Rock--the picture side."

  "I wish I could stay, but I came only to bring you this. It may be ofuse to you, as you can have no dinner."

  "No dinner! But I wish none."

  "Some of your friends, however, may need something more substantial thanthe view. The company is saving an honest penny by allowing those whowent ashore to abstain from dinner. It would have been served as usual,it was ready, the stewards say, if there had been passengers here to eatit."

  "But they were all ashore."

  "The passengers coming on at Gibraltar were here. Others could havebeen, but they preferred sightseeing at Gibraltar. Consequently theywere punished."

  The company's meanness seemed absurd, but as the old gentleman departed,Irma thanked him warmly for his gift,--a good-sized basket filled withfruit and cakes.

  For some time Irma strained her eyes for a glimpse of the other side ofthe Rock. At length, against the sky rose a huge bulk that might haveescaped a less keen vision. Almost instantly a passing cloud darkenedthe sky, and the giant became invisible.

  When Irma went inside she found a discontented crowd gathered inpassageways and in the library. Loud were the complaints that greetedher of the company's cruelty in omitting dinner.

  "We went ashore without even our usual afternoon tea, and no one hadtime to think of food at Gibraltar."

  Irma held out her basket. "A fairy godfather visited me," she said, "butI really do not know just what he gave me. Come, share it with me."

  Aunt Caroline looked surprised; Uncle Jim gave an expressive whistle,while even on Marion's face was an expression of curiosity.

  "I do not even know what is in the basket," repeated Irma, "though thefairy godfather said it held fruit and cakes."

  "I should say so," exclaimed Uncle Jim lifting the cover. "What fruit!And that cake looks as if it had been made in Paris. Just now these aremuch more attractive than those spangled scarfs I wrestled for with thatHindu. By the way, Irma, are these for show or use? They look too goodto eat."

  "Try them and see," answered Irma.

  "I'd be more eager to eat if I knew the name of the fairy godfather."

  "I don't know it myself," said Irma.

  "This feast will dull our appetites for the nine o'clock rarebit,"interposed Uncle Jim, who had made a test of the basket's contents.

  "I am sure a fairy godfather wouldn't use poison," and Aunt Carolinefollowed Uncle Jim's example.

  When Irma turned to offer the basket to Marion, he had left the group.

  "Poor boy," exclaimed Aunt Caroline. "He told me he felt very faint. Itseems he had little luncheon. Perhaps we shall find him in the diningsaloon."

  But when they descended to the dining saloon, Marion was not there, nordid they see him again that night. Yet, if she could not share the oldgentleman's gift with Marion, Irma found Muriel most grateful for aportion. For some time the two girls sat together at one end of the longtable, comparing notes about Gibraltar. They stayed together so late,indeed, that just before the lights were put out Aunt Caroline appeared.

  "Why, Irma, my dear, after this exciting day I should think you wouldneed rest earlier than usual."

  "Perhaps so, Aunt Caroline. But the day has been so exciting that Icannot feel sleepy."

  "It has grown foggy," said Aunt Caroline, as they went to their room."I do not like fog, and I am glad that we have but two or three morenights at sea."

  Once in her berth Irma soon slept. She thought indeed that she had beenasleep for hours, when suddenly she woke. It must be morning! But as sheopened her eyes, not a glimmer of light came through the porthole. Whathad wakened her? Then she realized that the boat was still. What hadhappened? She was conscious of persons walking on the decks above, ofvoices far away, even of an occasional shout. Ought she to waken AuntCaroline? While her thoughts were running thus, she had jumped from herberth, and a moment later, in wrapper and moccasins, had made her way tothe deck. A few other passengers were moving about, and a group ofstewards and stewardesses stood at the head of the stairs, as ifawaiting orders.

  "What is it?" she cried anxiously. Before her question had beenanswered, some one shoved her arm rather roughly. Looking up she sawthat Marion had come up behind her.

  "What are you doing here?" he said brusquely. "You will get your death.It is very cold."

  Irma shivered. In spite of her long cape she was half frozen. The nightair was chilly, and it was on this account that Marion pulled her fromthe open door.

  "Are we in danger? I thought I wouldn't wake Aunt Caroline until Iknew."

  At this moment Marion, unfortunately, smiled. He was fully dressed andwore a long overcoat. With his well-brushed hair he presented a strongcontrast to poor, dishevelled Irma. Naturally, then, she resented hissmile, occasioned, she thought, by her untidy appearance.

  "You are a very disagreeable boy," she cried angrily. "I wish I had toldyou so long ago." Thereupon Irma turned toward the stewards, among whomshe recognized the man who took care of her stateroom.

  "No, Miss, we're not in danger," he answered. "It's foggy, and there wassomething wrong about signals, but we stopped just in time to get clearof a man-of-war. It would have been pretty bad if she had run into us.So go back to your bed, Miss; it's all right now, and we're starting upagain."

  Marion was unhappy as he watched Irma walking downstairs. Evidently hehad in some way offended her; but how? She was an amiable girl; he wassure of this. Therefore his own offence must have been very serious. "Itis no use," said Marion bitterly, "I cannot expect people to like me. Ofcourse, she started with a prejudice, and she will never get over it."

  Now Irma, when she returned to her berth, though reassured by what thesteward had said, did not at once fall asleep. For a long time she laywith eyes wide open listening to many strange sounds, some real, someimaginary. But at last, when a metallic hammering had continued forhours, as it seemed to her, she was quite sure something had happened tothe boilers, and she drowsily hoped the _Ariadne_ would keep afloatuntil morning. It would be so much easier to get off in the lifeboats bydaylight. Then she must have fallen asleep. At least the next thing ofwhich she was aware was Aunt Caroline's loud whisper to the stewardess."We won't disturb her. She can sleep until luncheon."

  Aunt Caroline laughed, when Irma, looking through the curtains of herberth, asked the time.

  "Past breakfast time, my dear, but the stewardess will bring you hotcoffee and toast. You will have only a short hour to wait for luncheon."

  Thus Irma broke her record of never missing a meal in the dining-room,and shortened a day that otherwise would have seemed very long, as thefog did not clear until late afternoon.

  All this day Marion spent in a corner of the library. The ship'scollection of books contained nothing very recent, but in it were one ortwo old favorites, whom for the time he preferred as companions to anyof his fellow passengers. As to Irma, he tried to put her out of hismind. The world for him again became a dull, stupid place, and most ofits inhabitants were his enemies.

  Strange as it may seem, Irma had soon forgotten her pettishness of thenight before. Her fright, the noises from the boiler room, all hadseemed a kind of nightmare. So on Thursday, which might be their lastfull day at sea, she wondered that Marion, who had seemed so friendly atGibraltar, should now be so unsocial.


  She and Muriel spent much time together. Though they had not beenfortunate enough to see any whales, they did catch sight of a fewporpoises, spouting in the water not far away, and as the day wasparticularly sunny, Irma used her camera to advantage. Not only had shephotographed little Jean and her black nurse earlier, and severalpassengers whom she best knew, but she caught the captain and several ofthe officers going the rounds at morning inspection, and some of thecrew at fire drill.

  She even leaned over the railing and turned her camera toward thesteerage. As she steadied her camera, many turned their eyes toward her.Two or three smiled and waved their hands in a friendly manner.Altogether there was not a large number. In the spring, the captain hadtold her, not many immigrants returned to Europe. Those now going backto Italy were chiefly those whom the Government had forbidden to land.Some others, who had been in America a short time, were also sent backat the public expense, because likely to become public charges.

  Muriel and Irma had frequently speculated about the character ofseveral whom they had seen on the third cabin deck from day to day. Onegroup of rough men with bright handkerchiefs twisted about their necks,and caps pulled over their eyes, they called anarchists, and they hadtheories about most of the others. Both girls had a strong desire tomake a tour of the steerage quarters, under the guidance of the ship'sdoctor. He assured Aunt Caroline that there was no contagious disease.One poor woman had consumption, and might not live to reach Italy, andtwo or three others were in a decline, but there would be no danger forthe young ladies.

  But neither Muriel's mother nor Aunt Caroline would consent to let thegirls see more of the third cabin than they could observe from their owndeck.

  "I really believe," said Irma, "that Aunt Caroline thinks I will catchsomething from these negatives of the steerage. She is so nervous aboutit."

  "Then I should think she would be unwilling to have Marion spend so muchtime there."

  "Marion! oh, she doesn't care to have him down there. I remember whatshe said when he asked her one day."

  "Well, he goes just the same. I heard my mother and Mademoiselle talkingabout it only yesterday."

  This so surprised Irma that she closed her camera and took no morepictures.

  "I wonder," she said, as if to change the subject, "why that old womansits there in the corner with her hands over her face. Those littlegirls, I think, must be her grandchildren. Generally she has the baby inher arms, but the two older girls seem to be taking care of it to-day,and the oldest isn't here at all. She's about my age. Why, there she is,sitting by herself, and her eyes are very red, as if she had beencrying."

  Later in the day, after Muriel had left her, Irma sat down on a setteeat the uncovered end of the deck where a number of people, old andyoung, were playing shuffleboard. Just then the ship's doctor passed,and she thought it a good time to ask him about the old woman in thesteerage.

  "The old woman is downhearted. Her daughter, the mother of the fourgirls, died a couple of days ago. She was longing to live until shereached Italy, was sure, in fact, that once there she would recover. Butfrom the first I knew her case was hopeless, and we buried her at seathe night before we touched at Gibraltar."

  "Oh," sighed Irma, "it must be hard for the children."

  "Yes, very hard. You see it's only a short time since they went outfrom Italy. The father had a trade, but a week or two after landing hewas taken ill, and in another week or two had died. Charitable societieslooked after them for a while. They came under the law that requiresthose likely to become a public charge to be sent back. They have nofriends in America."

  "I suppose they have in Italy."

  "Yes, and though probably they, too, are poor, still the family will bebetter off there. With no real wage-earner I do not see what they coulddo in your country."

  "I can't see what they will do in Italy, if they have no money."

  "Oh, they have enough to take them up to Fiesole. That is where theylive. But there, you must know something about it; some of thepassengers are taking up a collection for them."

  "Why, no! I have heard nothing of it."

  "That's strange, for that young man in your party, Marion Horton, isinterested. He's been very good, too, to another steerage passenger, ayoung fellow from Bologna, who is paying his own way back. He has takenItalian lessons from him, I believe."

  "You surprise me," said Irma, as the doctor moved away. Could it bethat Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jim knew nothing of Marion's doings? Laterothers spoke to her about the death of the Italian woman and the needsof her family, and then Muriel came to say that she had given fivedollars to the fund a Mrs. Brown was gathering, "and do you know thatMarion Horton has charge of it? Isn't it funny he never told you?"

  The more Irma thought about it the more certain she became that Marionhesitated about letting Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jim know that he was inthe habit of visiting the steerage. While they had no right, perhaps, todictate to a boy of seventeen, still Aunt Caroline had expressed herselfstrongly against his going to the third cabin. Evidently he did not wishher to know that he had disregarded her wishes. What he was unwilling totell Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jim, he would hardly confide to Irma. Ithappened, however, that at dinner that evening Marion himself told thestory of the old grandmother and her young charges. But though he spokeof the little fund that had been raised, he did not mention his owninterest in it.

  "Some one came to me yesterday," said Uncle Jim, when Marion hadfinished, "and I made a contribution. I did not know the exact need, butyou have made it now quite clear."

  She approached him as he was starting out on deck.

  "Here is a dollar; please add it to the fund," said Irma to Marion afterdinner. Marion glanced at her in astonishment. But he did not take hermoney. Instead he waved his hand as if to push it away.

  "No, no," he replied. "No, we do not need it. We have enough."

  Then, without another glance at Irma, he walked away.

  "Does he think I offer too little, or does he dislike me so much that hewon't take my money?" But there was no one to answer her question.

  It was now Irma's turn to feel hurt. Small as her offering was, thedollar meant some sacrifice. At least she had taken it from the littlesum she had set aside for presents for the family and Lucy and Gertrudeand other friends. From her it was a larger sum than twenty dollars fromMuriel. So it was trying to have her intended gift treated disdainfully.

  That evening, as she sat on deck, wondering if this would really be herlast night at sea, some one dropped into the empty chair beside hers.

  "Why so quiet, god-daughter?" It was the voice of the old gentleman, buthow had he learned that she sometimes called him the "fairy godfather?"She was glad now to see him. She might not have many more of thosepleasant talks with him, unless, perhaps, their paths should cross inItaly. But she had never ventured to ask him just where he was going.Now, contrary to his habit, the old gentleman talked less of thecountries he had visited in the past. In some way, before she realizedit, he had turned the conversation in the direction of Marion, and afterhe had left her, Irma was conscious that she had given him much moreinformation than she ought to have given a stranger.

  "Yes, yes," he had exclaimed, "I can see just what he is like. Willfulas ever," and with an abrupt "good night" he had hurried away.

  "It isn't quite fair that we should all be so pleased at the prospectof landing," said Uncle Jim Friday morning. "Every one seems to thinkthe sooner we are in Naples the better. But we've had a fine trip, noaccidents, few seasick, few homesick. Yet here we are with our steamertrunks packed, almost ready to swim ashore, rather than stay longer onthe _Ariadne_."

  "It's human nature, always longing for change. But we might as wellpossess our souls in patience. Those who know say it will be lateafternoon before we even catch a glimpse of the Bay of Naples."

  "Oh, Aunt Caroline!"

  "There, Irma, you are as impatient as the rest of us. It is really truethat we may not land until evening."

&nb
sp; Evidently Aunt Caroline spoke with good authority. It was late afternoonbefore they saw the rugged heights of Ischia in the distance. They wereat dinner when they actually passed it, and when they entered the lovelyBay of Naples, the sun had set, and it was too dark to see its actualbeauties clearly. When at last they were anchored, it was as if theywere in fairyland. The city was a semicircle of brilliant lights curvingin front of them. They were surrounded by boats of every size, all ofthem carrying lights.

  "Must we land again in tenders?" sighed Irma. "Are there no wharves inEurope?"

  A fine mist was falling.

  "Before we go ashore it may be a heavy rain," said Uncle Jim. "If youagree, we can do as the larger number here intend to do. We can sleep onshipboard, and in the morning make a fresh start."

  The others agreed with Uncle Jim, and remained out on deck to watch theembarkation of those who were going ashore. While they waited, manylittle boats pushed near the _Ariadne_. In one a quartette sang thesweet Neapolitan songs. In another some stringed instruments played asoft melody. Sometimes the music stopped, while players or singersscrambled for the coppers thrown to the boats by passengers on deck.Then, when the music was resumed, the sound of laughter was mingled withit.

  Presently a procession of immigrants passed along the deck, carryingbundles and baskets. They made their way slowly to the gangway todescend to the tender.

  "I wonder if they are glad to be coming home," whispered Irma to UncleJim.

  "No, I fancy most of them prefer America."

  Just then, at the sound of laughter behind them, Irma and her uncleturned about to see a tall Italian stooping to pick some bananas fromthe deck. Over his shoulder was a long string of bananas, boughtprobably in the Azores. Some that were overripe had fallen to the deck.Hardly had he picked these up, when two or three others fell--thenothers. The poor fellow was in despair. He did not wish to leave them.But he had no way of carrying them. For besides the string of bananas hehad to take care of his bundle of clothing carried clumsily under theother arm. While he stood there half dazed, as a companion stooped tohelp him, suddenly there was a movement in the group of bystanders. Abrown linen bag was thrown down at his feet, and a voice cried inItalian, "There, put your bananas in the bag, put them all in and takethe bag home with you."

  "Well done, Marion," cried Uncle Jim, for he and Irma had instantlyrecognized Marion's voice. "Come here and tell us how you happened tothink of it."

  "Oh, it was easy enough to think of the bag. It was the last thing Iput in the tray of my trunk. I was only afraid I couldn't get back withit in time. I dare say the poor wretch meant to sell those bananas at aprofit when he lands, and I didn't wish to have his trade spoiled."

  "But where in the world did you learn the Italian you hurled at him? Heseemed to understand it, too."

  "Oh, I knew a few words before I left home, and here on shipboard I havemanaged to pick up a few more."

  Did Marion speak with embarrassment, or did Irma imagine this becauseshe had heard of his going to the steerage for lessons?

  "_Addio, addio_," cried the owner of the bananas, who had completed histask of packing the fruit in Marion's bag.

  "_Addio, addio_," responded Marion, while the man, as he passed on tothe gangway, poured forth a flood of thanks.

  When the tender had steamed off, Irma went below. She needed a goodnight's rest, for breakfast was to be at half past seven.

  In the misty morning the tender made a quick run to the dock. Just asthey pushed away from the _Ariadne_ Irma heard a voice crying, "Good-by,god-daughter." It was the little old gentleman. Since evening she hadnot seen him, and now she was ashamed that she had not tried to find himfor a word of farewell.

  "Good-by, good-by," she cried, waving her handkerchief. But already hehad slipped back out of sight.

  "To whom were you calling?" asked Aunt Caroline.

  "To the fairy godfather."

  "If you were not generally so sensible, sometimes I should think youquite out of your mind," rejoined Aunt Caroline. "Except for that fruitat Gibraltar, your fairy godfather would seem a myth. For neither youruncle nor I ever saw such a person on the _Ariadne_. Did you, Marion?"

  "Of course not," replied Marion shortly.

  But Irma only smiled. She knew there was such a person.