Part 7 (1/2)

”Long live the Queen! long live the Queen!”

The Queen, still standing on the bottom step, gave a little cry of delight. The men in the boat sat still, with puzzled grins on their faces. Mr. Phillips bounded down to them, leaping the steps in threes and fours.

”Cheer, you blighters,” he said, ”unless you want your silly skulls smashed. Cheer like billy-o. Long live the Queen!”

The men scrambled to their feet and responded. Their cheers rang out.

One of them, moved to enthusiasm, seized his oar and beat the water with the flat of the blade. Like a man with a flail he raised the oar high and brought it down with loud smacks on the water, splas.h.i.+ng up sparkling drops, rocking the boat in which he stood. He was not a native of Salissa, not a subject of the Queen, but his action expressed the enthusiasm of devoted loyalty.

The Queen bowed, blus.h.i.+ng, laughing, breathless with excitement.

Across the bay came the sound of shouting from the men on board the _Ida_, ragged cheers. The steamer's syren shrieked. Mr. Donovan stood on the bridge, the rope which controlled the syren in his hand. The Queen waved to him. Five revolver shots rang out in quick succession.

”Good old Wilson!” said Mr. Phillips. ”I wouldn't have thought he had it in him to fire a royal salute.”

He gave Captain Wilson credit which was not his due. It was Smith, the steward, who fired the revolver. Afterwards that loyal servant excused himself to Mr. Donovan.

”Beg pardon, sir,” he said, ”perhaps I oughtn't to have fired without orders; but it seemed the proper thing to do, sir.”

”Do you always carry a gun in your pocket?” said Mr. Donovan.

”Only when I'm among Eastern peoples, sir. It's wiser then. Not in England, sir.”

The Queen, standing radiant in the suns.h.i.+ne before her palace, gave her first royal command.

”Mr. Phillips,” she said, ”take the keys and come along.”

They ran up the steps together, past the flagstaff, crossed a s.p.a.ce of smooth white rock, and reached the great door which faced them. Mr.

Phillips fitted the key and flung the door wide. A gloomy cool s.p.a.ce lay before them. They were standing in bright suns.h.i.+ne and a glow of reflected light. Their eyes failed to penetrate the darkness before them. It was as if a thick black curtain hung inside the door. The Queen hesitated on the threshold. Mr. Phillips entered the room. He threw open the shutters and flung the great windows wide. Broad belts of light crossed the room. The suns.h.i.+ne flooded it. The morning breeze blew in, driving before it the heavy stagnant air.

The Queen entered.

She stood in a great hall. Round the walls hung pictures in tarnished frames. Rich furniture, damp-stained and worm-eaten, stood stiffly arranged as if for some great function. Only here and there was evidence of some disorder. A table was upset near the fireplace. The covering of a chair had been torn, and the hair stuffing of its cus.h.i.+ons bulged through the rent. The ashes of a wood fire and the charred remains of half-burnt logs were on the hearth. Some papers lay scattered on the floor near one of the windows.

The Queen, subdued, quieter, went on tip-toe round the room. She touched the furniture and the pictures softly, as she pa.s.sed them.

There was in her a feeling, half fear, half reverence, for the things which had once belonged to the dead King Otto. Phillips, moved by an impulse of curiosity, crossed the room to where the torn papers lay.

He stooped down and picked up some of the fragments. For the most part they were blank. On one or two there were words in a language he did not understand. Only one fragment interested him. It was the corner of a torn envelope. It bore an English stamp and a London postmark.

”Your Majesty,” he said.

She did not hear or did not reply. Mr. Phillips was not used to intimate a.s.sociation with royal persons. He tried another form of address. ”Your Serene Highness,” he said.

The Queen looked round.

”Do you mean me?” she said.

”Yes, your Excellency,” said Phillips.

The Queen laughed aloud. The sound of his voice and her own, the ready merriment of her laughter, awoke her from the fear and reverence, scattered the vague feeling of mystery which hung over her.