long used to the business. I got hold of one who seemed more like the deckhands of old days, though cleaner and more cheerful; a man who was all of sixty.
Yes he had f followed the sea from boyhood. Yes, he liked it, always had liked it, liked it better now than when he was young.
He had seen many changes? I listened carefully, though I asked the question lightly enough.
Changes! He guessed he had. Terbacca was better for one thing — I was relieved to see that men still smoked, and then the jar came again as I remembered that save for this man, and one elderly officer, I had not seen anyone smoking on the vessel.
“How do you account for it?” I asked the old Yankee. “For tobacco’s being better?”
He grinned cheerfully.
“Less run on it, I guess,” said he. “Young fellers don’t seem to smoke no more, and I ain’t seen nobody chewing for — well, for ten years back,”
ee-ls it cheaper as well as better?” No, sir, it ain’t. It’s perishing high. But then, wages is high, too,” he grudgingly admitted.
“Better tobacco and better wages — anything else improved?”
“Yes, sir-ee! Grub’s better, by square miles — and ’commodations — an’ close. Make better stuff now.
“Well! well!” said I as genially as I knew how. “That’s very different from my young days. Then everybody older than I always complained about all manner of things, and told how much better — and cheaper — things were when they were young.”
“Yes, ’twas so,” he admitted meditatively. “But ‘tain’t so now. Shoes is better, most things is better, I guess. Seems like water runnin’ up hill, don’t it, sir?”
It did. I didn’t like it. I got away from the old man, and walked by myself — like Kipling’s cat.
“Of course, of course!” I said to myself impatiently, “I may as well expect to find everything as much improved from what it was in my time as in, say, sixty years before.
That sort of progress goes faster and faster. Things change, but people — ”
And here is where I got this creepy sense of unreality.
At first everything was so strange to me, and my sister was so kind and thoughtful, so exquisitely considerate of my feelings and condition, that I had failed to notice this remarkable circumstance — so were the other people. It was like being in a — well, in a house-party of very nice persons. Kind, cheerful, polite — here I suddenly realized that I had not seen a grouchy face, heard an unkind remark, felt, as one does feel through silk and broadcloth, the sense of discontent and disapproval.
There was one, the somewhat hard-faced old lady, Mrs. Talbot, of whom I had hopes. I sought her, and laid myself out to please her by those little attentions which are so grateful to an elderly woman from a young man.
Her accepting these as a commonplace, her somewhat too specific inquiries about my health, suddenly reminded me that I was not a young man.
She talked on while I made again that effort at readjustment which was so hideously hard. Gone in a night — all my young manhood — gone untasted!
“Do you find it difficult to concentrate your attention?” she was saying, a steely eye fixed upon my face.
“I beg your pardon, madam. I fear I do. You were saying — ”
“I was saying that you will find many changes when you get back.”
“I find them already, Mrs. Talbot. They rather loom up. It is sudden, you see.”
“Yes, you’ve been away a long time, I understand. In the far East?”
Mrs. Talbot was the first person who had asked me a question. Evidently hers were the manners of an older generation, and for once I had to admit that the younger generation had improved.
But I recalled the old defensive armor against the old assaults.
“Quite a while,” I answered cheerfully, “Quite a while. Now what should you think would impress me most — in the way of change?” it
“The women,” she answered promptly.
I smiled my gallantest, and replied, bowing:
“I find them still charming.”
Her set face broke into a pleased smile.
“You do my heart good!” she cried. “I haven’t heard a compliment in fifteen years.”
“Good Heavens, madam! what are our men thinking of?”
“It’s not the men’s fault; it’s the women’s. They won’t have it.”
“Are there many of these — new women?”
“There’s nothing else — except a few old ones like me.”
I hastened to assure her that a woman like her would never be called old — and she looked as pleased as a girl.
Presently I excused myself and left her, with relief. It was annoying beyond measure to have the only specimen of the kind of woman I used to like turn out to be personally the kind I never liked.
On the opposite deck, I found Miss Elwell — and for once alone. A retiring back, wearing an aggrieved expression showed that it had not been for long.
“May I join you, Miss Elwell?”
I might. I did. We paced up and down, silent for a bit.
She was a joy to the eye, a lovely, straight, young thing, with a fresh, pure color and eyes of dancing brightness. I spoke of this and that aboard ship — the sea, the weather; and she was so gaily friendly, so sweet and modest, yet wholly frank, that I grew quite happy in her company.
My sister must have been mistaken about her being a civil engineer. She might be a college girl — but nothing worse. And she was so pretty!
I devoted myself to Miss Elwell ‘till she took herself off, probably to join her — her — it occurred to me that I had seen no one with Miss Elwell.
“Nellie” said I, “for heaven’s sake give me the straight of all this. I’m going distracted with the confusion. What has happened to the world? Tell me all, I can bear it — as the extinct novels used to say. But I cannot bear this terrible suspense! Don’t you have novels any more?”
“Novels? Oh, yes, plenty; better than ever were written. You’ll find it splendidly worth while to read quite a few of them while you’re getting oriented . . . Well, you want a kind of running, historic sketch?”
“Yes. Give me the outlines — just the heads, as it were. You see, my dear, it is not easy to get readjusted even to the old things, and there are so many new ones ”
We were in our steamer chairs, most people dozing after their midday meal. She reached over and took my hand in hers, and held it tight.
