He shrugged, and patted his wife’s hand. They exchanged secret smiles. “I may meet with a mine, or a submarine. . or hold a friendly conversation with a stray bullet in the trenches. Who can say?”
Miss Vance said, rather suddenly, “Mrs. Hubbard-why are you following your husband into harm’s way?”
Her husband watched the quiet, seemingly meek woman, waiting with the rest of us for her response.
“If such a thing happens,” she said, in a gentle second soprano, “Elbert and I will go down hand in hand.”
This sobered Miss Vance and myself, but Hubbard beamed at his bride. Then to us he said, “I’m always considering what I would do, should this happen, or that. So nothing can surprise me-even death!”
Surprisingly, I was finding myself interested in this man’s point of view-never had I encountered so cheerful a brand of fatalism.
Miss Vance asked, “Are you a religious man, Mr. Hubbard?”
“I’m familiar with the various religious beliefs and the ecclesiastical creeds and dogmas of the world. . I’ve investigated and analyzed all the theological theories. . and believe in none of them. My religion is the religion of humanity, which has its heaven on this earth.”
I found this remarkably compatible with my own views, and asked, “Where do you think science fits in?”
He grinned. “Now that’s the real miracle worker-the great philanthropist who freed the slaves and civilized the master. Science is our savior and our perpetual providence, the teacher of every virtue, the enemy of every vice and the discoverer of every fact.”
“Some would call that blasphemy,” I pointed out.
“Public opinion is the judgment of the incapable many,” he said, “opposed to that of the discerning few.”
He was falling back on the aphorisms again-for a while there the sage in the Buster Brown haircut had actually been discussing his views. Perhaps my frustration showed, because when he spoke again, the aphorism- spouting ceased, for a while anyway.
“Mr. Van Dine, I am a farmer, a publicist, a lecturer, a businessman and a writer. I do believe in a Supreme being, but my only prayer is, ‘Give us this day our daily work’. . though I suppose I pray, too, that I never meddle, dictate, or give unwanted advice. . If I can help people, I’ll do it by giving them a chance to help themselves.”
“ ‘Rest is rust?’ ” I said with a smile, invoking his most famous saying.
“That’s right-and life is love, laughter and work. Not to mention, just one damned thing after another. .”
Even if we were back to aphorisms, I actually laughed at that, as did Miss Vance.
He started to play to the receptive audience, saying, “I don’t take it too seriously, life. . None of us get out of it alive, you know.”
His wife spoke up again. “As a great man once said, ‘He has achieved success in life who has worked well, laughed often and loved much.’ ”
I did her the courtesy of writing that down, then asked, “And who said that?”
“Why, my husband, of course.”
Shifting in my chair, I said, “These positive thoughts are all well and good, Mr. Hubbard. . but the fact remains, we are sailing toward a zone of war, and you were warned by telegram that this ship was targeted for destruction.”
For the first time, Hubbard frowned, more in thought and surprise than in displeasure. . though some of that was in there, as well. “How did you know that, sir?”
I shrugged. “I’m a journalist-I picked up that crumpled telegram you discarded. Are you aware five other prominent passengers on this ship were similarly warned?”
Still frowning, he nodded. “Staff Captain Anderson informed me. But he said not to worry.”
“Did he, now. Tell me, when you published this inflammatory piece on ‘Bill Kaiser,’ what sort of reaction did you get from the German-Americans among your readership?”
His chin lifted and he seemed proud to report, “Ten thousand of them cancelled their subscriptions overnight.” He shrugged and added, “This is nothing new-when I was critical of Brandeis, I lost many of my Jewish readers, despite my stand over the years against anti-Semitism.”
“What did you do about these cancellations?”
“Well, over all, our circulation increased. . We’ve reprinted that issue in the hundreds of thousands, much as with the ‘Message to Garcia.’ And, of course, I wrote each of those who cancelled a friendly letter.”
“You wrote ten thousand letters, yourself?”
He nodded. “It took some time-but they were my readers, after all.”
His wife made one of her rare contributions to the conversation. “Elbert is too modest to say so,” she began, and I thought,
Ignoring this, Miss Vance asked Hubbard, “What about death threats?”
“My heavens, I’ve always had my share of those. I suppose I had thirty or forty, concerning the Bill Kaiser piece.”
“Were they investigated by the police?”
“Of course not. Suffering such cranks is part and parcel of my role in life.”
I exchanged glances with Miss Vance-she knew as I did that dismissing the possibility of Hubbard as an assassination target was not easily done, in light of all this.
“Do you think ‘Bill Kaiser’ might have this ship hit by a U-boat,” I asked, “just to make an example of you?
His eyes danced at such a grandiose thought. “To be torpedoed,” he said, “would be a good advertisement for my views, don’t you think?”
I had heard him say much the same thing to the reporters, coming aboard the ship, and it indicated just how prefabricated his “off the cuff” remarks were. Still, the words-in light of German stowaways, sabotage and murder- had a new and chilling effect on me.
Miss Vance took this opportunity to explain her role as the ship’s detective, and informed the Hubbards of the possibility of a thief or ring of thieves being aboard. She believed he might be a target. Had he brought any valuables along, or an unduly large amount of cash?
“By the standards of a Vanderbilt,” Hubbard said, “I probably seem a piker-but I admit I did bring along some five thousand dollars in paper money.”
“Why so much?” I asked. “I can’t imagine you and Mrs. Hubbard giving yourselves over to extravagance, even on a European trip.”
“Mr. Van Dine, I’m more than just an idea garage, supplying spare parts, lubricating oil and mental gasoline to my fellow human beings. .”
I managed not to groan.
“. . I am also a businessman. My Roycrofters are expert in fine bookbinding, and creating craftworks in wood, metal, copper and leather. A secondary mission of this trip is to seek quality materials, in particular Spanish leather for our bindery.”
Was every briefcase in first class crammed with money?
We inquired if he’d spoken to any strangers on the ship, if anyone had tried to strike up a conversation, and make a friend of him. .
“Why, certainly.
“Your species,” I said numbly.
“Yours, too! Mr. Van Dine, the fact that you are a human being brings you near to me-it is a bond that unites us! Often in life, all we need is the smile or hand-clasp of a fellow human being, and perhaps a word of good cheer, to get us through a rough day.”
Miss Vance tried to cut through this Pollyanna blather, asking, “But has anyone pressed too hard? Perhaps, approached you for business reasons?”
“No.”
I asked, “Have you observed anything suspicious? A steward, perhaps, whom you came onto in your quarters, but who had scant reason to be there?”
He glanced at his wife, who met his eyes with a shrug.
“No,” he said.
