Part 47 (1/2)

”You.”

”I?” The Admiral chuckled.

”Yes,” said the parson, lowering his voice a little; he was beginning to feel a trifle uncomfortable.

”Oh, in the tropics, you know, there are no such formalities.”

”But surely that's immoral?”

”We don't know the word in those parts.” And the Admiral rose to his feet.

The parson plucked up courage and said quietly: ”But you yourself were a Christian, Admiral, were you not?”

”Mind your own business, please,” answered the Admiral, at the same time opening the door politely, that the parson might slip out. The latter also availed himself of the chance; he was not without a certain uneasy feeling that if he failed to do so now, his exit might take a less peaceable form.

How the question was finally settled the writer cannot say; the fact remains that the town was no wiser than before.

The Princess was confirmed, and received into the best society of the town, as one of themselves. She was slender and finely built, with a pretty face and charming eyes. The only thing that marked her as different from the other girls was the yellowish-brown of her skin, and even this seemed to be growing fainter as the years went by.

As to her antecedents, she herself never referred to the subject, and no one was ever indelicate enough to ask her.

Altogether, then, matters were going very well indeed, both for the Admiral and the Princess. He began to feel at home in his old town, and did not regret having settled down there.

And the townsfolk, for the most part, gradually got used to the rough old fellow and his ways, though there were still a few who declared they could not ”abide” him.

Consul Endresen, for instance, and Henry B. Karsten the s.h.i.+p-chandler were not accustomed to be treated with such utter disregard by a so-called ”Admiral.”

Admiral indeed! Ha, ha! The whole thing was a farce. The old humbug; he was no more an admiral than Ferryman Arne. They turned up their noses at him, but kept their distance all the same, with an instinctive feeling that he might literally go so far as to take them by the scruff of the neck if he felt like it.

The two firms were old-established and respected in the place, having occupied a leading position in the commercial life of the town for generations, by reason of their wealth, superior education and incontestable ability. And in consequence neither felt at home elsewhere than in their native place, where they were used to play first fiddle generally. There was no compet.i.tion between the two; they were wise enough to realise that any such conflicting element might easily destroy the lead their fathers had established.

But they would not suffer any outsider to intrude on their domains, whether in business or in social life; here they shared in common an undisputed supremacy.

The young Karstens and Endresens were brought up according to the principles of their respective dynasties, and were sent abroad for their commercial education, that they might be properly fitted for the distinguished position they would be called to fill.

Skipper Hansen and Blacksmith Olsen's offspring found it was no easy matter to compete with them.

Wealth, however, was the only thing they really respected at heart, the old as well as the younger generation.

They would devote themselves several times a week to calculating how much the other notables might be worth, and were ill pleased that anyone should be better off than themselves.

It was even said that old Karsten took to his bed out of sheer envy on hearing that someone else had made a heap of money.

Endresen was wilier and rarely showed his feelings, but it was a well-known fact that he would be irritable and unreasonable when he heard of others making a successful deal. The clerks in his office said so.

Then came the sudden appearance of the Admiral in their midst. At first they did not understand this brutal and domineering force. The old Karstens themselves had been accounted proud and haughty enough--though perhaps not exactly brutal; but they were, as we have said, of a privileged caste. But this so-called Admiral, what was he?

A scion of the town, it is true, inasmuch as he was a son of the old s.h.i.+pbroker who had formerly occupied the house now purchased by the newcomer. But he, the father, that is, had been no more than a ”measly broker,” who had just managed to sc.r.a.pe some sort of a livelihood together by fixing contracts for the vessels owned by Endresens and selling coal to the Karstens' factories.

The Admiral himself, however, was evidently rich, a man of unbounded wealth, indeed, and enough to buy up Endresen's and Karsten's together. His Income Tax Return spoke plainly in plain figures; no farce about that! The fact was there, and could not be ignored; an abominable thing, but none the less true. There was nothing for it but to give him his t.i.tle of Admiral, and with a serious face. Had it been some poor devil without means, they would have jeered him out of the place.

When the Admiral came striding up the main street, a stout, imposing figure, even Henry B. Karsten himself had to make way. He would wave one hand in salutation and say ”Morning!” in English, using the same form of greeting to all, with the sole exception of Arne the Ferryman, who was always honoured with a shake of the hand.