CHAPTER I.
MADCAP MAX.
“All aboard!”
“All but passengers ashore.”^p^p The loud, stentorian voices of the officers of the magnificent palace steamer L’Orient, of the Peninsular and Oriental Line, sounded all along the Southampton docks, up the streets to the old gates, and even penetrated into some of the business houses of the quaint old English town.
The shout, so commonplace to the citizens of Southampton, was one of serious import to those gathered on the deck of the steamer.
Parting is never pleasant, and when the journey is a long one, and it is known the absence is for years, the last words are always tearful.
On the deck stood two men, alone.
Not one had come to bid them good-by or a godspeed on their journey.
And yet tears filled the eyes of both.
The elder was a bronzed veteran, his face as dark as that of any mulatto, his long, white mustache standing out in startling contrast to the color of his skin.
He was sixty years of age, but his strong body, his hard muscles, and firm walk, would rather betoken a man of forty.
By his side stood his son, a youth almost effeminate in appearance, but perhaps only because of the contrast to his father; there was a brightness in his eyes which betokens an active spirit, and although so effeminate-looking, when he clinched his hand one could see the strong muscle rising beneath the sleeve.
The elder man is Maximilian Gordon, of the mercantile firm of Gordon, Welter & Maxwell, of New York.
The son is Maximilian Gordon, also, but always called Max by those who are intimate with him, and “Madcap Max” by his closest companions.
Gordon, Welter & Maxwell were interested in Egyptian produce, and for many years Maximilian Gordon had been a resident of Alexandria.
His wife, sickly and delicate at all times, had been compelled to live in England, where young Max had been educated.
The elder man paid a yearly visit to his family, and had just completed arrangements for them to return to Egypt with him when cholera broke out, and he arrived home only just in time to close his wife’s eyes in death and see her body committed to its eternal resting place.
Hence it was that, as father and son looked at the English coast, which was by this time fast receding, their eyes were filled with tears, for they were leaving a plot of earth hallowed and sacred, because it was a wife’s and mother’s grave.
Youth is ever buoyant, and before the steamer had left the English Channel, Max was the happy, light-hearted lad once again, laughing, chatting and larking with everyone he came in contact with.
His father could not hide his grief so easily, but showed by his manner how nearly broken was his heart and ruined his life.
When the troubled waters of the Bay of Biscay were reached, Max had given plentiful evidence of his love of practical joking, and showed that he fully deserved his sobriquet of Madcap.
One of the passengers had on board an African monkey.
This little, frolicsome animal became very fond of Max, and was easily induced to adapt itself to the ways of the fun-loving youth.
One night Max took Jocko and dressed him in a lady’s nightcap, which he had obtained from a stewardess, and told Jocko he must lie in a certain bed.
The stateroom was occupied by a snarling old bachelor, who declared that women and children were a nuisance.
When the old fellow entered his room he saw, to his utter astonishment, a head resting on his pillow.
Without staying to investigate, he rushed out of his room, shouting “Steward!” at the top of his voice.
“What is it, Mr. Lawrence?” asked the first officer, startled by the frantic shouting.
“Some one has placed a nigger baby in my bed.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Lawrence!”
“I say they have, and I’ll report every officer of the vessel if the offender is not punished.”
“I will see that the matter is investigated,” said Officer Tunley.
“Of course—but when? Why, in a week’s time, when everyone will have easily forgotten—no, sir, come at once.”
“I will do so; but allow me to suggest, Mr. Lawrence, that it may have been the extra bottle of Bass’ ale——”
“Do you dare, officer, to insinuate——”
“Nothing, save that Welsh rarebit, highly seasoned, and three bottles of strong ale, are likely to disturb the vision.”
“I’ll report you, sir—mark me, I’ll report you. Come, now, to my room, and if there is not a nigger baby there I’ll eat my hat.”
“Very well, sir, I will come with you.”
By the time the stateroom was reached, Jocko had fled the room, and Max had stripped the cap from its head.
The monkey sat on the table in the saloon, grinning, as if it enjoyed the joke.
The officer and Mr. Lawrence entered the stateroom.
“By Jove!” exclaimed Lawrence, as he looked at his bed.
“I was afraid you were romancing, sir,” said the officer, with proud indignation. “Take care, sir, that it does not occur again.”
The passenger was speechless.
Another day, when the steamer L’Orient was being tossed about in the most fantastic manner, sometimes taking a swift pitch forward, then curving and twisting in a way which would bring joy to the heart of a baseball pitcher, Madcap Max thought the time had come for a pleasant diversion.
A drove of pigs, with other animals, was on board, to enable the company to provide fresh meat for the passengers.
Max quietly released the pigs from their quarters, and saw them, with one accord, make for the saloon.
That was just what he wanted.
A lady was tossed off her bed to the floor, but to her horror she fell on the back of a pig, who set up such a squeaking and squealing that, although the passengers were feeling sick, they were compelled to laugh.
After a voyage of fourteen days the city of Alexandria was sighted.
“Thank goodness!” exclaimed an old Indian nabob. “I am glad I have to stay at Alexandria, for L’Orient is the worst disciplined ship I was ever in.”
The verdict was concurred in by nearly everyone on board.
And yet it was not the officers’ fault, for nine-tenths of the trouble was caused by the pranks of Madcap Max.
“Do we land here?” asked Max.
“Yes, Max. We shall finish our journey overland.”
“Our journey?” repeated Max, opening his bright eyes still wider with astonishment.
“Yes, Max. We go to Cairo before we settle down at Alexandria.”
“I am so glad.”
Several scores of boats surrounded L’Orient, manned by swarthy and not too-much dressed Arabs; a dozen or so seized upon Max and his father and literally dragged them to a boat.
On the way from the steamer to the landing dock, Mr. Gordon whispered to Max:
“No jokes with these fellows, or your life is not your own.”
“All right, dad; I’ll be as sober as a judge and as full of fun as an undertaker.”
“For your own sake be careful.”
“I will, dad. That is, as careful as I can be.”