Aunt Jane's Nieces Out West
"
"We want to see Captain Carg," called Arthur, in reply.
The head wagged sidewise.
"No one allowed aboard," said the man.
"Here's a letter to the captain, from Mr. Jones," said Maud,
exhibiting it.
The word seemed magical. Immediately the head disappeared and an instant
later the boarding ladder began to descend. But the man, a sub-officer
dressed in a neat uniform of white and gold, came quickly down the steps
and held out his hand for the letter.
"Beg pardon," said he, touching his cap to the ladies, "but the rules are
very strict aboard the _Arabella_. Will you please wait until I've taken
this to the captain? Thank you!"
Then he ran lightly up the steps and they remained seated in the launch
until he returned.
"The captain begs you to come aboard," he then said, speaking very
respectfully but with a face that betrayed his wonder at the order of his
superior. Then he escorted them up the side to the deck, which was
marvelously neat and attractive. Some half a dozen sailors lounged here
and there and these stared as wonderingly at the invasion of strangers as
the subaltern had done. But their guide did not pause longer than to see
that they had all reached the deck safely, when he led them into a
spacious cabin.
Here they faced Captain Carg, whom Patsy afterward declared was the
tallest, thinnest, chilliest man she had ever encountered. His hair was
grizzled and hung low on his neck; his chin was very long and ended in a
point; his nose was broad, with sensitive nostrils that marked every
breath he drew. As for his eyes, which instantly attracted attention,
they were brown and gentle as a girl's but had that retrospective
expression that suggests far-away thoughts or an utter lack of interest
in one's surroundings. They never looked at but through one. The effect
of Carg's eyes was distinctly disconcerting.
The commander of the _Arabella_ bowed with much dignity as his guests
entered and with a sweep of his long arm he muttered in distant tones:
"Pray be seated.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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