It was the habit of the Doctor
and the Admiral to accompany
each other upon a morning ramble
between
breakfast and lunch. The dwellers in those quiet
tree-lined roads were accustomed to see the two figures,
the long, thin, austere seaman, and the short, bustling,
tweed-clad physician, pass and repass with such
regularity that a stopped clock has been reset by them.
The Admiral took two steps to his companion's three, but
the younger man was the quicker, and both were equal to
a good four and a half miles an hour.
It was a lovely summer day
which followed the events which
have been described. The sky
was of the deepest blue, with
a few white, fleecy clouds drifting
lazily across it, and the air
was filled with the low drone
of insects or with a sudden sharper
note as bee or bluefly shot past
with its quivering, long-drawn
hum, like an insect tuning-fork.
As the friends topped each rise
which leads up to the Crystal
Palace, they could see the dun
clouds of London stretching along
the northern sky-line, with spire
or dome breaking through the
low-lying haze. The Admiral was
in high spirits, for the morning
post had brought good news to
his son.
"It is wonderful, Walker," he
was saying, "positively wonderful,
the way that boy of mine has
gone ahead during the last three
years. We heard from Pearson
to-day. Pearson is the senior
partner, you know, and my boy
the junior--Pearson and Denver
the firm. Cunning old dog is
Pearson, as cute and as greedy
as a Rio shark. Yet he goes off
for a fortnight's leave, and
puts my boy in full charge, with
all that immense business in
his hands, and a freehand to
do what he likes with it. How's
that for confidence, and he only
three years upon 'Change?"
"Any one would confide in him.
His face is a surety," said the
Doctor.
"Go on, Walker!" The Admiral
dug his elbow at him. "You know
my weak side. Still it's truth
all the same. I've been blessed
with a good wife and a good son,
and maybe I relish them the more
for having been cut off from
them so long. I have much to
be thankful for!"
"And
so have I.
The best two
girls that ever stepped. There's
Clara, who has learned up as
much medicine as would give her
the L.S.A., simply in order that
she may sympathize with me in
my work. But hullo, what is this
coming along?"
"All drawing and the wind astern!" cried
the Admiral. "Fourteen knots
if it's one. Why, by George,
it is that woman!"
A rolling cloud of yellow dust
had streamed round the curve
of the road, and from the heart
of it had emerged a high tandem
tricycle flying along at a breakneck
pace. In front sat Mrs. Westmacott
clad in a heather tweed pea-jacket,
a skirt which just{?} passed
her knees and a pair of thick
gaiters of the same material.
She had a great bundle of red
papers under her arm, while Charles,
who sat behind her clad in Norfolk
jacket and knickerbockers, bore
a similar roll protruding from
either pocket. Even as they watched,
the pair eased up, the lady sprang
off, impaled one of her bills
upon the garden railing of an
empty house, and then jumping
on to her seat again was about
to hurry onwards when her nephew
drew her attention to the two
gentlemen upon the footpath.
"Oh, now, really I didn't notice
you," said she, taking a few
turns of the treadle and steering
the machine across to them. "Is
it not a beautiful morning?"
"Lovely," answered the Doctor. "You
seem to be very busy."
"I am very busy." She pointed
to the colored paper which still
fluttered from the railing. "We
have been pushing our propaganda,
you see. Charles and I have been
at it since seven o'clock. It
is about our meeting. I wish
it to be a great success. See!" She
smoothed out one of the bills,
and the Doctor read his own name
in great black letters across
the bottom.
"We
don't forget
our chairman,
you see. Everybody is coming.
Those two dear little old maids
opposite, the Williamses, held
out for some time; but I have
their promise now. Admiral, I
am sure that you wish us well."
"Hum!
I wish you
no harm, ma'am."
"You
will come on
the platform?"
"I'll
be---- No,
I don't think
I can do that."
"To
our meeting,
then?"
"No,
ma'am; I don't
go out after
dinner."
"Oh yes, you will come. I will
call in if I may, and chat it
over with you when you come home.
We have not breakfasted yet.
Goodbye!" There was a whir of
wheels, and the yellow cloud
rolled away down the road again.
By some legerdemain the Admiral
found that he was clutching in
his right hand one of the obnoxious
bills. He crumpled it up, and
threw it into the roadway.
"I'll be hanged if I go, Walker," said
he, as be resumed his walk. "I've
never been hustled into doing
a thing yet, whether by woman
or man."
"I am not a betting man," answered
the Doctor, "but I rather think
that the odds are in favor of
your going."
The Admiral had hardly got
home, and had just seated himself
in his dining-room, when the
attack upon him was renewed.
He was slowly and lovingly unfolding
the Times preparatory to the
long read which led up to luncheon,
and had even got so far as to
fasten his golden pince-nez on
to his thin, high-bridged nose,
when he heard a crunching of
gravel, and, looking over the
top of his paper, saw Mrs. Westmacott
coming up the garden walk. She
was still dressed in the singular
costume which offended the sailor's
old-fashioned notions of propriety,
but he could not deny, as he
looked at her, that she was a
very fine woman. In many climes
he had looked upon women of all
shades and ages, but never upon
a more clearcut, handsome face,
nor a more erect, supple, and
womanly figure. He ceased to
glower as he gazed upon her,
and the frown smoothed away from
his rugged brow.
"May I come in?" said she,
framing herself in the open window,
with a background of green sward
and blue sky. "I feel like an
invader deep in an enemy's country."
"It is a very welcome invasion,
ma'am," said he, clearing his
throat and pulling at his high
collar. "Try this garden chair.
What is there that I can do for
you? Shall I ring and let Mrs.
Denver know that you are here?"
"Pray
do not trouble,
Admiral. I
only looked
in with reference
to our little chat this morning.
I wish that you would give us
your powerful support at our
coming meeting for the improvement
of the condition of woman."
"No, ma'am, I can't do that." He
pursed up his lips and shook
his grizzled head.
"And
why not?"
"Against
my principles,
ma'am."
"But
why?"
"Because
woman has her
duties and
man has his.
I may be old-fashioned,
but that is my view. Why, what
is the world coming to? I was
saying to Dr. Walker only last
night that we shall have a woman
wanting to command the Channel
Fleet next."
"That is one of the few professions
which cannot be improved," said
Mrs. Westmacott, with her sweetest
smile. "Poor woman must still
look to man for protection."
"I
don't like
these new-fangled
ideas, ma'am. I tell you honestly
that I don't. I like discipline,
and I think every one is the
better for it. Women have got
a great deal which they had not
in the days of our fathers. They
have universities all for themselves,
I am told, and there are women
doctors, I hear. Surely they
should rest contented. What more
can they want?"
"You
are a sailor,
and sailors
are always chivalrous. If you
could see how things really are,
you would change your opinion.
What are the poor things to do?
There are so many of them and
so few things to which they can
turn their hands. Governesses?
But there are hardly any situations.
Music and drawing? There is not
one in fifty who has any special
talent in that direction. Medicine?
It is still surrounded with difficulties
for women, and it takes many
years and a small fortune to
qualify. Nursing? It is hard
work ill paid, and none but the
strongest can stand it. What
would you have them do then,
Admiral? Sit down and starve?"
"Tut,
tut! It is
not so bad
as that."
"The
pressure is
terrible. Advertise
for a lady
companion
at ten shillings a week, which
is less than a cook's wage, and
see how many answers you get.
There is no hope, no outlook,
for these struggling thousands.
Life is a dull, sordid struggle,
leading down to a cheerless old
age. Yet when we try to bring
some little ray of hope, some
chance, however distant, of something
better, we are told by chivalrous
gentlemen that it is against
their principles to help."
The Admiral winced, but shook
his head in dissent.
"There
is banking,
the law, veterinary
surgery, government
offices, the civil service, all
these at least should be thrown
freely open to women, if they
have brains enough to compete
successfully for them. Then if
woman were unsuccessful it would
be her own fault, and the majority
of the population of this country
could no longer complain that
they live under a different law
to the minority, and that they
are held down in poverty and
serfdom, with every road to independence
sealed to them."
"What
would you propose
to do, ma'am?"
"To
set the more
obvious injustices
right, and so to pave the way
for a reform. Now look at that
man digging in the field. I know
him. He can neither read nor
write, he is steeped in whisky,
and he has as much intelligence
as the potatoes that he is digging.
Yet the man has a vote, can possibly
turn the scale of an election,
and may help to decide the policy
of this empire. Now, to take
the nearest example, here am
I, a woman who have had some
education, who have traveled,
and who have seen and studied
the institutions of many countries.
I hold considerable property,
and I pay more in imperial taxes
than that man spends in whisky,
which is saying a great deal,
and yet I have no more direct
influence upon the disposal of
the money which I pay than that
fly which creeps along the wall.
Is that right? Is it fair?"
The
Admiral moved
uneasily in
his chair. "Yours is an exceptional
case," said he.
"But
no woman has
a voice. Consider
that the women
are a
majority in the nation. Yet if
there was a question of legislation
upon which all women were agreed
upon one side and all the men
upon the other, it would appear
that the matter was settled unanimously
when more than half the population
were opposed to it. Is that right?"
Again
the Admiral
wriggled. It
was very awkward
for the gallant
seaman to have a handsome woman
opposite to him, bombarding him
with questions to none of which
he could find an answer. "Couldn't
even get the tompions out of
his guns," as he explained the
matter to the Doctor that evening.
"Now
those are really
the points
that we shall
lay stress
upon
at the meeting. The free and
complete opening of the professions,
the final abolition of the zenana
I call it, and the franchise
to all women who pay Queen's
taxes above a certain sum. Surely
there is nothing unreasonable
in that. Nothing which could
offend your principles. We shall
have medicine, law, and the church
all rallying that night for the
protection of woman. Is the navy
to be the one profession absent?"
The
Admiral jumped
out of his
chair with
an evil word
in his
throat. "There, there, ma'am," he
cried. "Drop it for a time. I
have heard enough. You've turned
me a point or two. I won't deny
it. But let it stand at that.
I will think it over."
"Certainly, Admiral. We would
not hurry you in your decision.
But we still hope to see you
on our platform." She rose and
moved about in her lounging masculine
fashion from one picture to another,
for the walls were thickly covered
with reminiscences of the Admiral's
voyages.
"Hullo!" said she. "Surely
this ship would have furled all
her lower canvas and reefed her
topsails if she found herself
on a lee shore with the wind
on her quarter."
"Of
course she
would. The
artist was
never past
Gravesend,
I swear.
It's the Penelope as she was
on the 14th of June, 1857, in
the throat of the Straits of
Banca, with the Island of Banca
on the starboard bow, and Sumatra
on the port. He painted it from
description, but of course, as
you very sensibly say, all was
snug below and she carried storm
sails and double-reefed topsails,
for it was blowing a cyclone
from the sou'east. I compliment
you, ma'am, I do indeed! "
"Oh,
I have done
a little sailoring
myself--as much as a woman can
aspire to, you know. This is
the Bay of Funchal. What a lovely
frigate!"
"Lovely,
you say! Ah,
she was lovely!
That is the
Andromeda.
I was a mate aboard of her--sub-lieutenant
they call it now, though I like
the old name best."
"What
a lovely rake
her masts have,
and what a
curve to her
bows! She must have been a clipper."
The old sailor rubbed his hands
and his eyes glistened. His old
ships bordered close upon his
wife and his son in his affections.
"I know Funchal," said the
lady carelessly. "A couple of
years ago I had a seven-ton cutter-rigged
yacht, the Banshee, and we ran
over to Madeira from Falmouth."
"You
ma'am, in a
seven-tonner?"
"With
a couple of
Cornish lads
for a crew. Oh, it was glorious!
A fortnight right out in the
open, with no worries, no letters,
no callers, no petty thoughts,
nothing but the grand works of
God, the tossing sea and the
great silent sky. They talk of
riding, indeed, I am fond of
horses, too, but what is there
to compare with the swoop of
a little craft as she pitches
down the long steep side of a
wave, and then the quiver and
spring as she is tossed upwards
again? Oh, if our souls could
transmigrate I'd be a seamew
above all birds that fly! But
I keep you, Admiral. Adieu!"
The old sailor was too transported
with sympathy to say a word.
He could only shake her broad
muscular hand. She was half-way
down the garden path before she
heard him calling her, and saw
his grizzled head and weather-stained
face looking out from behind
the curtains.
"You may put me down for the
platform," he cried, and vanished
abashed behind the I curtain
of his Times, where his wife
found him at lunch time.
"I hear that you have had quite
a long chat with Mrs. Westmacott," said
she.
"Yes,
and I think
that she is
one of the
most sensible
women
that I ever knew.
"Except
on the woman's
rights question,
of course."
"Oh,
I don't know.
She had a good
deal to say
for herself
on that also. In fact, mother,
I have taken a platfom ticket
for her meeting." |