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3 Mr. and Mrs. Patterson

If Mr. Horatio Patterson occupied the post of bookkeeper at the Antillean School, it was because he had given up his teaching career for one in administration. A Latin scholar of conviction, he regretted that in England the language of Virgil and Cicero did not have the same consideration that it enjoyed in France, where it was held in high esteem even at the university level.

The French race, it is true, can claim a Latin origin to which the sons of Albion could not aspire at all. And perhaps, in France, Latin will continue to resist the invasions of the modern curriculum?

Although he no longer taught them, Mr. Patterson was not any less faithful, deep in his heart, to the masters of Roman antiquity whom he idealized. While very fond of offering quotes by Virgil, Ovid, or Horace,¹ he nevertheless devoted himself to being a rigorous and methodical accountant in administering the finances of the Antillean School.

With his strong sense of precision and meticulousness, he conveyed the impression of a model bookkeeper, who ignores nothing of the mysteries of the debit and credit, nor of the most minute details of accounting.

Having once earned awards in his exams in the ancient languages, he might now have received a top prize in a contest for bookkeeping or for balancing an academic budget.

Moreover, in all likelihood, it was Mr. Horatio Patterson who would assume the supervision of the Antillean School when Mr. Ardagh retired, after having made his fortune, since the institution was very prosperous, and it would not decline in these hands that were so capable of taking over such an important succession.

Mr. Horatio Patterson was only a few months over forty. A scholar more than an athlete, he enjoyed perfect health, which he never abused by any excess: a good stomach, an admirably regular heart, and top-quality lungs.

He was of discrete and reserved character, of perfect moderation, having always known how to never compromise himself by his actions or his words, a man who was both theoretical and practical, incapable of offending anyone, perfectly tolerant, and, to describe him by an idiom that would not displease him, very sui compos.²

Mr. Horatio Patterson, of above average height without being well-built and with drooped shoulders, had a rather awkward walk and a posture that lacked elegance. A naturally emphatic way of gesturing accompanied his words, articulated in a slightly pretentious manner. Even though his countenance was severe, he did not refuse to smile when appropriate. His eyes were pale blue, somewhat affected by short-sightedness which forced him to wear strong prescription glasses that he placed on the tip of his prominent nose. Lastly, often bothered by his long legs, he walked with his heels too close together, he sat awkwardly giving the impression he might slide off his chair, and he alone knew if he was able to stretch out or not on his bed.

There existed a Mrs. Patterson, thirty-seven years old at the time, a quite intelligent woman, without conceit or coquetry. Her husband did not seem amusing to her; he knew how to appreciate her work when she helped him with his bookkeeping. In fact, just because the accountant of the Antillean School was a man of numbers, one must not assume that he neglected his physical appearance or that he was careless with his hygiene. That would be a mistake. No! There was nothing better tied than the knot of his white tie, better polished than his boots with the patent leather tips, or better starched than his shirts. His personal aspect was even more irreproachable than his black pants, better closed than his vest which resembled that of a clergyman, or better buttoned than his frock coat that came down to his mid-leg.

Mr. and Mrs. Patterson occupied a comfortable apartment in one of the school’s buildings. The windows received light from the main courtyard on one side and on the other from the garden, planted with old trees and with grass that was kept freshly cut. It was made up of half a dozen rooms on the second floor.

It is to this apartment that Mr. Patterson went after his visit with the Director. He had not hurried, wanting to give his thoughts time to mature. Without a doubt, they would be no older than the few minutes by which he had extended his absence.

As a person accustomed to seeing clearly, to observing things in their true aspect, to balancing the question of pros and cons the same way he balanced the debits and credits on his big ledger book, the decision would normally be made quickly and definitively. This time, however, it was advisable not to embark³—that was the word—lightly on this adventure.

Before going home, Mr. Patterson paced up and down the courtyard, which was empty at this hour. He was straight like a lightning rod, rigid like a post, stopping, starting again, now with his hands behind his back, now with his arms crossed across his chest, his gaze lost in some distant horizon, well beyond the walls of the Antillean School.

Then, before going to consult Mrs. Patterson, he did not resist the desire to go back to his office to finish his bookkeeping from earlier in the day. And so, after one final check, his mind completely free, he would be able to discuss without any worries the advantages or disadvantages of the news he had received from his Director.

In short, all that took very little time, and, leaving his office on the first floor, he went up to the second floor at the same moment the students were getting out of classes.

Soon, here and there, different groups formed, and, among others, the one with the nine laureates. In truth, one might have said that they were already aboard the Alert, some miles off the coast of Ireland! And the subject of which they talked with such volubility was not difficult to imagine.

If the matter of this trip to the Antilles had been resolved, however, there was another question that had not yet been answered. Would they be accompanied from departure to arrival or not?

It seemed clear to everyone that they would not be left to go alone across the Atlantic. But had Mrs. Seymour designated someone in particular or had she delegated that task to Mr. Ardagh? It seemed difficult for the Director of the institution to be absent during this time. Therefore, who would be entrusted with this task, and had Mr. Ardagh already made his choice?

It might have occurred to some of them that it would be in fact Mr. Patterson. It is true that the accountant was a quiet homebody, who never left his residence. Would he agree to change all his habits, to be separated from Mrs. Patterson for several weeks? Would he accept this task with the responsibility it entailed? It all seemed quite improbable.

Most certainly, if Mr. Patterson felt some astonishment when the Director had the aforementioned conversation with him, it is understandable that Mrs. Patterson would not be any less surprised when her husband informed her. Never would it occur to anyone that two individuals so closely united—one might say so chemically bonded with one another—would be able to be separated, disassociated, even for a few weeks. And yet, it was impossible for Mrs. Patterson to take part in the voyage.

It was about these diverse considerations that Mr. Patterson worried while heading back to his apartment. But it must be said that his mind was made up and his decision finalized as he crossed the threshold into the living room where Mrs. Patterson was waiting for him.

Aware that the accountant had been called to the Director’s office, she said at first, as soon as he entered:

“Well, Mr. Patterson, what is it, then?”

“Some news, Mrs. Patterson, big news …”

“It has been decided, I believe, that Mr. Ardagh will accompany our young laureates to the Antilles?”

“Not at all. It is impossible for him to leave the institution at this time of the year.”

“So then, did he make a choice?”

“Yes …”

“And whom did he choose?”

“Me.”

“You … Horatio?”

“Me.”

Mrs. Patterson recovered without too much difficulty from the surprise that this answer gave her. An intelligent woman, she could imagine the reasons involved in this decision and did not waste time on vain recriminations. In this, she was a worthy companion to Mr. Patterson.

He, however, after having exchanged these few phrases with her, had walked to the window, and with the fingers of his left hand was tapping on one of the panes. Mrs. Patterson soon came to stand next to him:

“You have accepted?” she asked.

“I accepted.”

“I think you did the right thing.”

“I do too, Mrs. Patterson. After our Director showed such confidence in me, I could not refuse.”

“Doing so would be impossible, Mr. Patterson. But I regret only one thing.”

“Which is?”

“That the voyage is not by land but rather by water, and that it will be necessary to cross the sea.”

“Necessary indeed, Mrs. Patterson. All the same, the idea of this two-to three-week sea-crossing does not frighten me. A good ship has been put at our disposal. At this time of the year, between July and September, the sea will be calm, and navigation will be favorable. And moreover, there is also a salary bonus for the head of the expedition, who is to be called the mentor, a title that will be given to me.”

“A bonus?” repeated Mrs. Patterson, who was not at all indifferent to such advantages.

“Yes,” answered Mr. Patterson, “a bonus equal to the one that each scholarship-recipient will receive.”

“Seven hundred pounds?”

“Seven hundred pounds.”

“A worthy sum.”

Mr. Patterson fully agreed.

“And when is the departure?” asked Mrs. Patterson, who had no more objections to offer.

“On June 30, and in five days we must be in Cork where the Alert will await us. So, there is no time to waste. This very day we must begin the preparations.”

“I’ll take care of everything, Horatio,” replied Mrs. Patterson.

“You won’t forget anything.”

“Don’t worry!”

“Light clothing, since we will need to travel in hot regions that roast under the heat of a tropical sun.”

“Light clothing will be packed.”

“In black, however, since it would not suit my charge nor my character to wear any eccentric tourist outfits.”

“Leave it to me, Mr. Patterson, and I will also not forget either the Wergal formula⁴ against seasickness, or the ingredients that it recommends to take.”

“Oh! Seasickness!” said Mr. Patterson with disdain.

“No matter, we must be prudent,” continued Mrs. Patterson. “So, it has been decided, it’s to be a trip of two and a half months.”

“Two and a half months, that’s ten to eleven weeks, Mrs. Patterson. Indeed, in that period of time, what unforeseen events might ensue! Like the wise man said, we may know when we are leaving, but we don’t know when we will come back.”

“The important thing is that you come back,” emphasized Mrs. Patterson. “You mustn’t frighten me, Horatio. I will resign myself, without untimely recriminations, to a two and a half month absence, to the idea of a voyage by sea. And I know the dangers such a trip might entail. I have reason to believe that you will know how to avoid them with your usual caution. But please do not leave me with this unpleasant impression that the voyage could be prolonged even longer.”

“These are observations that I thought necessary to make,” replied Mr. Patterson, defending himself for having overstepped the boundaries allowed. “These observations are not meant to trouble your soul, Mrs. Patterson. I simply wanted to warn you against any worry in case the return were delayed, without giving cause for serious alarm.”

“Granted, Mr. Patterson, but it is a matter of a two-and-a-half months’ absence, and I want to believe it will not exceed that term.”

“I would like to believe that too,” answered Mr. Patterson. “Besides, what is it really? An excursion in a lovely part of the world, meandering from island to island in the West Indies. And if we happen to come back to Europe two weeks late …”

“No, Horatio,” stated this excellent lady who was being more firm than usual.

And, indeed, without knowing exactly for what reason, here was Mr. Patterson becoming insistent as well—which was not at all usual for him. Was there a reason why he was raising Mrs. Patterson’s apprehensions?

What is certain is that he insisted once again and with force on the dangers that any kind of voyage offers, especially a voyage overseas. And when Mrs. Patterson refused to admit these dangers that he depicted with emphatic pauses and gestures:

“I do not ask you to see them,” he stated, “only to anticipate them, and as a consequence of this prediction, I will take some necessary measures.”

“Which ones, Horatio?”

“In the first place, Mrs. Patterson, I am thinking about making my will.”

“Your will?”

“Yes … Of sound body and mind …”

“But what you want is to let death get a grip on my heart!” exclaimed Mrs. Patterson, who was beginning to envision this voyage from a frightening perspective.

“No, Mrs. Patterson, no! I only want to conduct myself wisely and carefully. I am one of those men who thinks it is reasonable to make his last wishes known before taking the train, and even more so, when it is a matter of venturing onto the liquid plains of the oceans.”

Such was this man, and would he stop with declaring his will? What else might he imagine? Whatever it might be, he had already alarmed Mrs. Patterson to the fullest, who now had the thought that her husband was going to settle these inheritance matters, always so delicate, then the images of the dangers of a trans-Atlantic crossing, colliding, running aground, shipwrecking, then becoming a castaway on some island at the mercy of cannibals.

Mr. Patterson felt that perhaps he had gone too far, and he employed his most soothing phrases to reassure Mrs. Patterson, his better half, or rather one of the halves of this shared life that is called marriage. Finally, he succeeded in showing her that excessive precautions could never lead to harmful or regrettable consequences, and that to protect oneself against all eventualities did not mean saying goodbye to the joys of life.

“I am thinking about making my will!”

“This aeternum vale,”⁵ he added, “which Ovid places in Orpheus’s mouth when he lost his dear Eurydice for the second time …”

No! Mrs. Patterson would not lose Mr. Patterson, not even a first time. But this meticulous man insisted that everything be in order. He would not give up this idea of making his will. That very day, he would go to a notary’s office, and the document would be drawn up according to the law so that there would be no possibility, in case it had to be consulted, of any doubtful interpretation. After this, one can easily imagine Mr. Patterson taking every possible precaution in case it was fated that the Alert go down at sea with all hands and cargo, forcing the surviving families to give up receiving any news from its crew or its passengers.

Doubtless this was not Mr. Patterson’s opinion, because he added: “And besides, there will perhaps be another step that is more …”

“Which one, Horatio?” Mrs. Patterson asked.

Mr. Patterson did not feel the need to be more specific at this time. “Nothing … Nothing … We will see! …” he answered. And if he had not wanted to say more, it was, in truth, in order not to frighten Mrs. Patterson again. And perhaps he would not have succeeded in making her accept his idea, even by supporting it with some other Latin quote, and he was not accustomed to using them sparingly with her normally.

Finally, to end this conversation, he concluded in these terms:

“And now, let’s take care of my luggage and my hat box.”

True, the departure was still five days away, but what is already done no longer needs to be done.

In other words, for Mr. Patterson as for the young award winners, all that remained for them to do was to prepare for the voyage.

In fact, if the Alert’s departure was set for June 30, then from the five days left it was necessary to deduct twenty-four hours to get from London to Cork.

Indeed, the train would first transport the passengers to Bristol. There, they would board the steamer with daily service between England and Ireland, they would go down the Severn, they would cross the Bristol Channel, then the Saint George’s Channel, and would disembark at Queenstown, on the mouth of Cork Harbor, on the southwest coast of green Erin. One day was all that was required to sail between Great Britain and Ireland, and for Mr. Patterson that would be sufficient training for the sea.

The families of the young scholarship recipients had been consulted and the responses were not long in arriving, either by telegram or by letter. For Roger Hinsdale, the response was the very same day, since his parents lived in London, and it was the laureate himself who went to inform them of Mrs. Seymour’s intentions.

The other responses arrived successively from Manchester, Paris, Nantes, Copenhagen, Rotterdam, and Goteborg. Hubert Perkins’s family wired a telegram from Antigua.

The proposal received the most favorable reaction, with very sincere thanks to Mrs. Seymour of Barbados.

While Mrs. Patterson was taking care of the travel preparations for her husband, Mr. Patterson was putting the finishing touches on the Antillean School’s general accounting. One could be sure that he would not leave a single pending invoice or an incomplete entry.

Then, he would ask his superiors for a leave from his managerial duties beginning June 28 of the current year.

At the same time, he did not forget any of his personal errands, and he no doubt settled, as he intended, that matter which was especially important to him and about which he had to speak to Mrs. Patterson more explicitly than he had done during their first conversation.

On that topic, however, the interested parties kept an absolute silence. Would we learn in the future what it was all about? Yes, if, by misfortune, Mr. Horatio Patterson did not come back from the New World!

What is certain is that the couple made several visits to a man of the law, a solicitor, and that they even went before some expert magistrates. And the Antillean School personnel could clearly see that each time Mr. and Mrs. Patterson came back together to their apartment, he looked more solemn, more reserved, while his worthy spouse at times had red eyes as if she had just shed many tears, and at other times had the attitude of someone who had come to terms with a drastic resolution.

Furthermore, and despite the different forms they took, these feelings of sadness seemed very justified under the circumstances.

June 28 arrived. The departure was supposed to take place in the evening. At nine o’clock, the mentor and his young companions would take the train for Bristol.

In the morning, Mr. Julian Ardagh had one last interview with Mr. Patterson.

At the same time that he asked him to keep the books for the trip with perfect regularity—a needless recommendation—he made him feel the great importance of the task that had been entrusted to him, and how much he was counting on him to maintain harmony among the students of the Antillean School.

Then, turning to the nine scholarship recipients …

At eight-thirty in the evening, the goodbyes were exchanged in the main courtyard. Roger Hinsdale, John Howard, Hubert Perkins, Louis Clodion, Tony Renault, Niels Harboe, Axel Wickborn, Albertus Leuwen, and Magnus Anders shook the Director’s hand, the hands of their professors, and those of their classmates, who did not see them off without a little bit of normal envy.

Mr. Horatio Patterson had said goodbye to Mrs. Patterson, whose photograph he carried, and he had expressed himself with emotional phrases, with the conscience of a practical man who had put himself on guard against all eventualities.

Then, turning to the nine scholarship recipients, at the moment when they were going to get into the break⁶ that was to drive them to the station, he said, articulating each syllable of this verse from Horatio:

Gras ingens iterabimus aequor.⁷

And now they are off. In a few hours the train will have dropped them off at Bristol. Tomorrow they will cross the Saint George’s Channel that Mr. Patterson has labeled ingens aequor … Happy travels to the laureates of the Antillean School competition!