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The Patagonia
by Henry James
CHAPTER I
The houses were dark in the August night and the perspective of
Beacon Street； with its double chain of lamps； was a foreshortened
desert。 The club on the hill alone； from its semi…cylindrical front；
projected a glow upon the dusky vagueness of the Common； and as I
passed it I heard in the hot stillness the click of a pair of
billiard…balls。 As 〃every one〃 was out of town perhaps the servants；
in the extravagance of their leisure； were profaning the tables。 The
heat was insufferable and I thought with joy of the morrow； of the
deck of the steamer； the freshening breeze； the sense of getting out
to sea。 I was even glad of what I had learned in the afternoon at
the office of the companythat at the eleventh hour an old ship with
a lower standard of speed had been put on in place of the vessel in
which I had taken my passage。 America was roasting； England might
very well be stuffy； and a slow passage （which at that season of the
year would probably also be a fine one） was a guarantee of ten or
twelve days of fresh air。
I strolled down the hill without meeting a creature； though I could
see through the palings of the Common that that recreative expanse
was peopled with dim forms。 I remembered Mrs。 Nettlepoint's house
she lived in those days （they are not so distant； but there have been
changes） on the water…side； a little way beyond the spot at which the
Public Garden terminates； and I reflected that like myself she would
be spending the night in Boston if it were true that； as had been
mentioned to me a few days before at Mount Desert； she was to embark
on the morrow for Liverpool。 I presently saw this appearance
confirmed by a light above her door and in two or three of her
windows； and I determined to ask for her； having nothing to do till
bedtime。 I had come out simply to pass an hour； leaving my hotel to
the blaze of its gas and the perspiration of its porters； but it
occurred to me that my old friend might very WELL not know of the
substitution of the Patagonia for the Scandinavia； so that I should
be doing her a service to prepare her mind。 Besides； I could offer
to help her； to look after her in the morning： lone women are
grateful for support in taking ship for far countries。
It came to me indeed as I stood on her door…step that as she had a
son she might not after all be so lone； yet I remembered at the same
time that Jasper Nettlepoint was not quite a young man to lean upon；
havingas I at least supposeda life of his own and tastes and
habits which had long since diverted him from the maternal side。 If
he did happen just now to be at home my solicitude would of course
seem officious； for in his many wanderingsI believed he had roamed
all over the globehe would certainly have learned how to manage。
None the less； in fine； I was very glad to show Mrs。 Nettlepoint I
thought of her。 With my long absence I had lost sight of her； but I
had liked her of old； she had been a good friend to my sisters； and I
had in regard to her that sense which is pleasant to those who in
general have gone astray or got detached； the sense that she at least
knew all about me。 I could trust her at any time to tell people I
was respectable。 Perhaps I was conscious of how little I deserved
this indulgence when it came over me that I hadn't been near her for
ages。 The measure of that neglect was given by my vagueness of mind
about Jasper。 However； I really belonged nowadays to a different
generation； I was more the mother's contemporary than the son's。
Mrs。 Nettlepoint was at home： I found her in her back drawing…room；
where the wide windows opened to the water。 The room was duskyit
was too hot for lampsand she sat slowly moving her fan and looking
out on the little arm of the sea which is so pretty at night；
reflecting the lights of Cambridgeport and Charlestown。 I supposed
she was musing on the loved ones she was to leave behind； her married
daughters； her grandchildren； but she struck a note more specifically
Bostonian as she said to me； pointing with her fan to the Back Bay：
〃I shall see nothing more charming than that over there； you know！〃
She made me very welcome； but her son had told her about the
Patagonia； for which she was sorry； as this would mean a longer
voyage。 She was a poor creature in any boat and mainly confined to
her cabin even in weather extravagantly termed fineas if any
weather could be fine at sea。
〃Ah then your son's going with you？〃 I asked。
〃Here he comes； he'll tell you for himself much better than I can
pretend to。〃 Jasper Nettlepoint at that moment joined us； dressed in
white flannel and carrying a large fan。 〃Well； my dear； have you
decided？〃 his mother continued with no scant irony。 〃He hasn't yet
made up his mind； and we sail at ten o'clock！〃
〃What does it matter when my things are put up？〃 the young man said。
〃There's no crowd at this moment； there will be cabins to spare。 I'm
waiting for a telegramthat will settle it。 I just walked up to the
club to see if it was comethey'll send it there because they
suppose this house unoccupied。 Not yet； but I shall go back in
twenty minutes。〃
〃Mercy； how you rush about in this temperature！〃 the poor lady
exclaimed while I reflected that it was perhaps HIS billiard…balls I
had heard ten minutes before。 I was sure he was fond of billiards。
〃Rush？ not in the least。 I take it uncommon easy。〃
〃Ah I'm bound to say you do！〃 Mrs。 Nettlepoint returned with
inconsequence。 I guessed at a certain tension between the pair and a
want of consideration on the young man's part； arising perhaps from
selfishness。 His mother was nervous； in suspense； wanting to be at
rest as to whether she should have his company on the voyage or be
obliged to struggle alone。 But as he stood there smiling and slowly
moving his fan he struck me somehow as a person on whom this fact
wouldn't sit too heavily。 He was of the type of those whom other
people worry about； not of those who worry about other people。 Tall
and strong； he had a handsome face； with a round head and close…
curling hair； the whites of his eyes and the enamel of his teeth；
under his brown moustache； gleamed vaguely in the lights of the Back
Bay。 I made out that he was sunburnt； as if he lived much in the
open air； and that he looked intelligent but also slightly brutal；
though not in a morose way。 His brutality； if he had any； was bright
and finished。 I had to tell him who I was； but even then I saw how
little he placed me and that my explanations gave me in his mind no
great identity or at any rate no great importance。 I foresaw that he
would in intercourse make me feel sometimes very young and sometimes
very old； caring himself but little which。 He mentioned； as if to
show our companion that he might safely be left to his own devices；
that he had once started from London to Bombay at three quarters of
an hour's notice。
〃Yes； and it must have been pleasant for the people you were with！〃
〃Oh the people I was with！〃 he returned； and his tone appeared to
signify that such people would always have to come off as they could。
He asked if there were no cold drinks in the house； no lemonade； no
iced syrups； in such weather something of that sort ought always to
be kept going。 When his mother remarked that surely at the club they
WERE kept going he went on： 〃Oh yes； I had various things there； but
you know I've walked down the hill since。 One should have something
at either end。 May I ring and see？〃 He rang while Mrs。 Nettlepoint
observed that with the people they had in the house； an establishment
reduced naturally at such a moment to its simplest expressionthey
were burning up candle…ends and there were no luxuriesshe wouldn't
answer for the service。 The matter ended in her leaving the room in
quest of cordials with the female domestic who had arrived in
response to the bell and in whom Jasper's appeal aroused no visible
intelligence。
She remained away some time and I talked with her son； who was
sociable but desultory and kept moving over the place； always with
his fan； as if he were properly impatient。 Sometimes he seated
himself an instant on the window…sill； and then I made him out in
fact thoroughly good…lookinga fine brown clean young athlete。 He
failed to tell me on what special contingency his decision depended；
he only alluded familiarly to an expected telegram； and I saw he was
probably fond at no time of the trouble of explanations。 His
mother's absence was a sign that when it might be a question of
gratifying him she had grown used to spare no pains； and I fancied
her rummaging in some close storeroom； among old preserve…pots； while
the dull maid…servant held the candle awry。 I don't know whether
this same vision was in his own eyes； at all events it didn't prevent
his saying