Chapter 9 ARMS AND THE MAN

The Torch had been brought round from Greenock by Captain Cathie, and was lying in the London Docks close alongside Wapping Basin, an object of interest to all her neighbours.

Captain Cathie's clock had gone back at least ten years since he and Kenneth Blair struck hands in the drawing-room of the Aunties' house in Brisbane Street. He was then a fine old specimen of the very best type of retired mariner. Now he was a jovial young sea-dog, bristling with energy, and overflowing with hearty goodwill to humanity at large. He was Kenneth Blair's man to the backbone, and prepared to follow him to the death.

Jean delighted in him and he in her. She had taken Aunt Jannet Harvey down to inspect her future home, and the ladies' comments had filled Captain Cathie's cup to the brim and won his heart completely.

Jean had asked him endless questions, but not one more than he delighted in answering; and Aunt Jannet Harvey's characteristic summing-up of the whole matter had been, "Child, I feel as if I'd wasted half my life in never having been to sea before. I've always had an idea that I knew something about neatness and comfort and packing, but this"-with a wave of the hand which comprehended the cabin she was standing in, and the Torch generally, and Captain Cathie-"this puts me to shame. I shall never want to live on shore again," and Captain Cathie was repaid for all his labours. With full understanding, and thirty years' experience, and no stinting as regards money, he had laboured to adapt the ladies' rooms to their fullest possible requirements. Their delight in all they saw assured him of his success.

A few days later Blair brought down a party of friends to inspect the little ship, foremost among them the Colonial Secretary and the Earl of Selsea, who had both come straight from a Cabinet Council where the Dark Islands had been the rat in the pit.

"We're getting on by degrees," said the Secretary in the train, as he lit a cigar to counteract the atmosphere.

"It's amazing what an amount of pig-headedness there is in the world," said his friend. "You don't realise it in all its heart-breaking stolidity till you run your own head against it."

"That's so. But what can you expect when men like B-- are pitchforked into the positions they occupy? I was at Eton with B-- and at Oxford. He always was a fool and he always will be. He ought to have gone into the Church."

"I object! The Church needs the very best men it can get."

"Well, then, into the Army. He couldn't have done much mischief in either, and in the Army, at all events, there'd have been some chance of his getting licked into some kind of shape. As it is, I always want to get up and ask him to come outside into the park with me just for ten minutes or so. It was the one argument that used to prevail with him, and I've an idea it would yet. Anyway, it would do me a heap of good. He was born pig-headed and it's grown on him ever since."

"If we can once get him to see things as--"

"See? B-- never could see anything beyond the side on which his bread was buttered. Some men are born dense, and some grow denser as they grow older. B--'s both. He wants trepanning. Here's Mark Lane, and there's your Angel Gabriel on the pounce for us."

Angel Gabriel, in the person of Kenneth Blair, gave them hearty welcome, and piloted them through slums and dockyards till they stood on the deck of the Torch, where Jean, and Aunt Jannet Harvey, and Captain Cathie, were already doing the honours to a goodly company.

"It is a great enterprise you are bound upon, Mrs. Blair," said the Secretary, as Jean expounded Torch to him.

"The grandest work in the world," she said exuberantly. "If you'll only back us up and give us what we want."

"Ah! if only it rested with me. But I'm only one."

"Oh, come! Where am I?" asked Selsea.

"That makes two," acknowledged the Secretary, who would willingly, in the light of Jean's brown eyes, have taken all the credit to himself.

"And we'll soon have the rest. As for B--, if he won't toe the line, we'll worry the life out of him," which was a highly improper remark to fall from the lips of a philanthropic nobleman. But then Jean Blair's hopefully eager face and wistful eyes were upon him, and allowances must be made.

"I do hope you will," she said earnestly.

"What, worry the life out of him?" laughed the Secretary.

"H'm-yes,-if he won't toe the line."

"Hullo!" said the Secretary, as he entered the deck saloon, an exceedingly comfortable room, fitted in bird's-eye maple with fine woven cane cushions and backs to the seats instead of saddlebags or velvet plush.

But it was not at the room itself at which he exclaimed, but at the arm-racks ranged round the walls, empty at present, but full of meaning.

"Yes," said Blair quietly. "Winchesters. They're down below with the Maxim. Let me show you something else," and he led the two gentlemen along the deck to a longboat, keel up, on a stand well forward. The boat stood high and was covered with tarpaulin.

"Do you care to peep under?" he asked. And the Secretary bent and peeped, and straightened up again with raised eyebrows.

"You mean business, evidently, Mr. Blair. That's an odd passenger for a missionary ship."

"She throws a 9-lb. shell a mile and a half," said Blair, "and Captain Cathie is an old naval gunner. Yes, we mean business. But this business"-patting the long gun's cover-"only in case of absolute necessity. You quite understand the situation? I hope you have confidence in me?"

"I quite understand, and I have perfect confidence. Mr. Blair. I believe for once the right man is in the right place. We will do everything we possibly can to further your views. If we can't get all we want, we can no doubt keep our eyes closed."

Their visitors were delighted with all they saw, but all of them did not see everything. Even if one is prepared to tackle one's problems with an iron grip, it is not always highest wisdom to shake one's fist in the face of the world.

Blair showed them also the thousand and one other things he was taking out, seeds and germs of civilisation, from which he hoped a mighty harvest, and named many more which he would procure in Australia. He limned his ideas lightly, and gave them even fuller glimpse than he had ever yet done of his ultimate hopes; and, waxing eloquent, held them spellbound at the magnitude of the far-reaching possibilities. And to all, Jean's eloquent face and sparkling eyes played ready chorus, and Lord Selsea and the Secretary went away deeply impressed with what they had seen, and more with what they had heard, and most of all with what they had been made to think and hope.

"A very fine young fellow!" said the Secretary, as he neutralised the sulphur again.

"Ay!-a man, every inch of him. May he live to see his golden dreams realised!"

"I tell you what, Selsea, it's mighty refreshing to come in contact with enthusiasm such as that running in harness with sound common sense."

"Big heart and level head-a fine combination!"

"I feel as if I'd been a trip on the sea, or up on a mountain top. I wish we could swop B-- for him. Half a dozen of him in a Cabinet now-eh?"

"My dear fellow, don't! The contrast is too painful."