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CHAPTER V - A NAVAL CONQUEST
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 skyline,
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 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."
Content of CHAPTER V - A NAVAL CONQUEST [Arthur Conan Doyle's novel: Beyond the City]
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