The Ferry of Unfulfilment

by O. Henry

　　

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At the street corner, as solid as granite in the "rush-hour" tideof humanity, stood the Man from Nome. The Arctic winds and sun hadstained him berry-brown. His eye still held the azure glint of theglaciers. He was as alert as a fox, as tough as a caribou cutlet and asbroad-gauged as the aurora borealis. He stood sprayed by a Niagaraof sound--the crash of the elevated trains, clanging cars, poundingof rubberless tires and the antiphony of the cab and truck-driversindulging in scarifying repartee. And so, with his gold dust cashedin to the merry air of a hundred thousand, and with the cakes andale of one week in Gotham turning bitter on his tongue, the Man fromNome sighed to set foot again in Chilkoot, the exit from the land ofstreet noises and Dead Sea apple pies. Up Sixth avenue, with the tripping, scurrying, chattering,bright-eyed, homing tide came the Girl from Sieber-Mason's. The Manfrom Nome looked and saw, first, that she was supremely beautifulafter his own conception of beauty; and next, that she moved withexactly the steady grace of a dog sled on a level crust of snow. Histhird sensation was an instantaneous conviction that he desired hergreatly for his own. This quickly do men from Nome make up theirminds. Besides, he was going back to the North in a short time, andto act quickly was no less necessary. A thousand girls from the great department store of Sieber-Masonflowed along the sidewalk, making navigation dangerous to men whosefeminine field of vision for three years has been chiefly limited toSiwash and Chilkat squaws. But the Man from Nome, loyal to her whohad resurrected his long cached heart, plunged into the stream ofpulchritude and followed her. Down Twenty-third street she glided swiftly, looking to neither side;no more flirtatious than the bronze Diana above the Garden. Her finebrown hair was neatly braided; her neat waist and unwrinkled blackskirt were eloquent of the double virtues--taste and economy. Tenyards behind followed the smitten Man from Nome. Miss Claribel Colby, the Girl from Sieber-Mason's, belonged tothat sad company of mariners known as Jersey commuters. She walkedinto the waiting-room of the ferry, and up the stairs, and by amarvellous swift, little run, caught the ferry-boat that was justgoing out. The Man from Nome closed up his ten yards in three jumpsand gained the deck close beside her. Miss Colby chose a rather lonely seat on the outside of theupper-cabin. The night was not cold, and she desired to be away fromthe curious eyes and tedious voices of the passengers. Besides, shewas extremely weary and drooping from lack of sleep. On the previousnight she had graced the annual ball and oyster fry of the West SideWholesale Fish Dealers' Assistants' Social Club No. 2, thus reducingher usual time of sleep to only three hours. And the day had been uncommonly troublous. Customers had beeninordinately trying; the buyer in her department had scolded herroundly for letting her stock run down; her best friend, MamieTuthill, had snubbed her by going to lunch with that Dockery girl. The Girl from Sieber-Mason's was in that relaxed, softened moodthat often comes to the independent feminine wage-earner. It is amood most propitious for the man who would woo her. Then she hasyearnings to be set in some home and heart; to be comforted, and tohide behind some strong arm and rest, rest. But Miss Claribel Colbywas also very sleepy. There came to her side a strong man, browned and dressed carelesslyin the best of clothes, with his hat in his hand. "Lady," said the Man from Nome, respectfully, "excuse me forspeaking to you, but I--I--I saw you on the street, and--and--" "Oh, gee!" remarked the Girl from Sieber-Mason's, glancing up withthe most capable coolness. "Ain't there any way to ever get ridof you mashers? I've tried everything from eating onions to usinghatpins. Be on your way, Freddie." "I'm not one of that kind, lady," said the Man from Nome--"honest,I'm not. As I say, I saw you on the street, and I wanted to know youso bad I couldn't help followin' after you. I was afraid I wouldn'tever see you again in this big town unless I spoke; and that's why Idone so." Miss Colby looked once shrewdly at him in the dim light on theferry-boat. No; he did not have the perfidious smirk or the brazenswagger of the lady-killer. Sincerity and modesty shone through hisboreal tan. It seemed to her that it might be good to hear a littleof what he had to say. "You may sit down," she said, laying her hand over a yawn withostentatious politness; "and--mind--don't get fresh or I'll call thesteward." The Man from Nome sat by her side. He admired her greatly. He morethan admired her. She had exactly the looks he had tried so long invain to find in a woman. Could she ever come to like him? Well, thatwas to be seen. He must do all in his power to stake his claim,anyhow. "My name's Blayden," said he--"Henry Blayden." "Are you real sure it ain't Jones?" asked the girl, leaning towardhim, with delicious, knowing raillery. "I'm down from Nome," he went on with anxious seriousness. "Iscraped together a pretty good lot of dust up there, and brought itdown with me." "Oh, say!" she rippled, pursuing persiflage with engaging lightness,"then you must be on the White Wings force. I thought I'd seen yousomewhere." "You didn't see me on the street to-day when I saw you." "I never look at fellows on the street." "Well, I looked at you; and I never looked at anything before that Ithought was half as pretty." "Shall I keep the change?" "Yes, I reckon so. I reckon you could keep anything I've got. Ireckon I'm what you would call a rough man, but I could be awfulgood to anybody I liked. I've had a rough time of it up yonder, butI beat the game. Nearly 5,000 ounces of dust was what I cleaned upwhile I was there." "Goodness!" exclaimed Miss Colby, obligingly sympathetic. "It mustbe an awful dirty place, wherever it is." And then her eyes closed. The voice of the Man from Nome had amonotony in its very earnestness. Besides, what dull talk was thisof brooms and sweeping and dust? She leaned her head back againstthe wall. "Miss," said the Man from Nome, with deeper earnestness andmonotony, "I never saw anybody I liked as well as I do you. I knowyou can't think that way of me right yet; but can't you give me achance? Won't you let me know you, and see if I can't make you likeme?" The head of the Girl from Sieber-Mason's slid over gently and restedupon his shoulder. Sweet sleep had won her, and she was dreamingrapturously of the Wholesale Fish Dealers' Assistants' ball. The gentleman from Nome kept his arms to himself. He did notsuspect sleep, and yet he was too wise to attribute the movement tosurrender. He was greatly and blissfully thrilled, but he ended byregarding the head upon his shoulder as an encouraging preliminary,merely advanced as a harbinger of his success, and not to be takenadvantage of. One small speck of alloy discounted the gold of his satisfaction.Had he spoken too freely of his wealth? He wanted to be liked forhimself. "I want to say, Miss," he said, "that you can count on me. They knowme in the Klondike from Juneau to Circle City and down the wholelength of the Yukon. Many a night I've laid in the snow up therewhere I worked like a slave for three years, and wondered if I'dever have anybody to like me. I didn't want all that dust justmyself. I thought I'd meet just the right one some time, and I doneit to-day. Money's a mighty good thing to have, but to have the loveof the one you like best is better still. If you was ever to marry aman, Miss, which would you rather he'd have?" "Cash!" The word came sharply and loudly from Miss Colby's lips, givingevidence that in her dreams she was now behind her counter in thegreat department store of Sieber-Mason. Her head suddenly bobbed over sideways. She awoke, sat straight, andrubbed her eyes. The Man from Nome was gone. "Gee! I believe I've been asleep," said Miss Colby "Wonder whatbecame of the White Wings!"

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