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diff --git a/75726-0.txt b/75726-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebfdb3a --- /dev/null +++ b/75726-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4218 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75726 *** + + + + + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + +VOL. I. + + + + DRIVEN TO BAY. + + _A NOVEL._ + + BY + FLORENCE MARRYAT, + + AUTHOR OF + + ‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘MY OWN CHILD,’ + ‘THE MASTER PASSION,’ ‘SPIDERS OF SOCIETY,’ + ETC., ETC. + + _IN THREE VOLUMES._ + + VOL. I. + + LONDON: + F. V. WHITE & CO., + 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. + + 1887. + + [_All Rights reserved._] + + + + + EDINBURGH + COLSTON AND COMPANY + PRINTERS + + + + +[Illustration] + +_CONTENTS._ + + + CHAP. PAGE + + I. JACK, THE SAILOR, 1 + + II. VERNON, THE LOVER, 17 + + III. IRIS HARLAND, 36 + + IV. LES NOUVEAUX RICHES, 55 + + V. BREAKERS AHEAD, 72 + + VI. A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING, 85 + + VII. TWO WOMEN’S HEARTS, 98 + + VIII. THE ‘_PANDORA_,’ 115 + + IX. MR GREENWOOD, 132 + + X. GOOD-BYE TO ENGLAND, 153 + + XI. A DISCOVERY, 175 + + XII. AT SEA, 191 + + XIII. COURTSHIP, 200 + + XIV. REMONSTRANCE, 216 + + + + +“SELECT” NOVELS. + +_Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each._ + +AT ALL BOOKSELLERS AND BOOKSTALLS. + + +By FLORENCE MARRYAT. + + THE HEIR-PRESUMPTIVE. + THE HEART OF JANE WARNER. + UNDER THE LILIES & ROSES. + MY OWN CHILD. + HER WORLD AGAINST A LIE. + PEERESS AND PLAYER. + FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS. + A BROKEN BLOSSOM. + MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. + + +By ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs Pender Cudlip). + + HER SUCCESS. + KATE VALLIANT. + JENIFER. + ALLERTON TOWERS. + FRIENDS AND LOVERS. + + +By LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD. + + MATED WITH A CLOWN. + ONLY A VILLAGE MAIDEN. + MOLLIE DARLING. + SWEETHEART AND WIFE. + + +By MRS HOUSTOUN, Author of “Recommended to Mercy.” + + BARBARA’S WARNING. + + +By MRS ALEXANDER FRASER. + + THE MATCH OF THE SEASON. + A FATAL PASSION. + A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. + + +By IZA DUFFUS HARDY. + + ONLY A LOVE STORY. + NOT EASILY JEALOUS. + LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY. + + +By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. + + POISONED ARROWS. + + +By MRS H. LOVETT CAMERON. + + IN A GRASS COUNTRY. + A DEAD PAST. + A NORTH COUNTRY MAID. + + +By DORA RUSSELL. + + OUT OF EDEN. + + +By LADY VIOLET GREVILLE. + + KEITH’S WIFE. + + +By NELLIE FORTESCUE HARRISON, Author of “So Runs my Dream.” + + FOR ONE MAN’S PLEASURE. + + +By EDMUND LEATHES. + + THE ACTOR’S WIFE. + + +By HARRIETT JAY. + + A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE. + + +COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + + + + +[Illustration] + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +JACK, THE SAILOR. + + +The August sun had just sunk below the horizon, as Jack Blythe, a +passenger by the down train from London to Portsmouth, walked leisurely +home to a little cottage situated on Southsea Common. + +He was a tall, well-built young fellow of five-and-twenty, with a +remarkably graceful figure. His hair was pale brown, with the faintest +tinge of gold upon it; his eyes were grey and languid in their +expression--his general appearance somewhat delicate. And yet Jack +Blythe (who had been christened Vernon) was one of the merriest, +most manly fellows in existence. The very fact of his proper name +having been mysteriously changed to ‘Jack’ was a proof of his being +a favourite with his own sex: as for the other, they, one and all, +combined to spoil him. Few, seeing Jack for the first time, would have +guessed his profession. He looked like a poet, but he was a sailor, and +belonged to the roughest part of the profession--the Merchant Service. +He had been educated, indeed, with a view to very different work; but +when it was too late for him to enter the Royal Navy, he had intimated +his unalterable decision to go to sea, and his mother, who was his only +surviving parent, had, with many tears, consented to his wishes. But he +was a good son and a good sailor, and she had never repented of letting +him have his own way. + +As he approached his destination, he was accosted by another young man +who had run half-way across the common to meet him. + +‘Hullo, Jack! how are you? You’re the very man I want,’ cried the +new-comer effusively. + +‘What for, Reynolds? To pull an oar in a boating party, or to rig up a +tent for a camping-out expedition?’ asked Blythe. + +‘Better than that, old boy! I’ve bought that little yacht, the _Water +Witch_, at last, and you must sail her for me. I have my party all +ready, and we can start for the Island to-morrow morning.’ + +‘I should very much like to join you, old man,’ said Jack, ‘but it +can’t be done. I may have to go to town again to-morrow to meet an +influential friend.’ + +‘Hang it! You are always going up to town!’ ejaculated the other. ‘One +day off can surely do you no harm.’ + +‘It might, at present, Reynolds. I have stayed on shore too long +already, and I find some difficulty in getting a ship. I have sent in +my application for a berth on board the _Pandora_, and as I have good +interest, I hope I may get it. But nothing is certain in this world, +and I cannot afford to relax my energies until I am provided for. +You see my twelve-month’s pay is nearly gone--that’s where the shoe +pinches; so, if I lose my chance of the _Pandora_, I shall have to hunt +up all the skippers and owners in the docks.’ + +‘You’ll get a ship fast enough,’ grumbled Reynolds; ‘you’ve passed for +chief officer. What more do you want? Come, old boy,’ he continued +coaxingly, ‘say you’ll give up to-morrow to the _Water Witch_ and me--’ + +‘I will, if it is possible! I can say no more,’ replied Jack Blythe. + +‘Alice Leyton has promised to accompany us,’ resumed Reynolds, +meaningly. + +‘Has she?’ remarked Jack without a blush. ‘Well, if I can join the +party, she will prove an extra attraction to it, naturally. But it is +as necessary for her sake as for my own that I should get employment as +soon as possible.’ + +And, with a wave of the hand, Jack Blythe continued his walk to his +mother’s cottage. + +‘I don’t believe he cares a rap for that girl,’ thought Reynolds, as +he, too, turned homewards. ‘Fancy! calmly resigning a whole day on +the water with the woman he is supposed to be in love with. Bah! The +fellow’s not made of flesh and blood.’ + +But in this, as in many things, Mr Reynolds was mistaken. It was a +hard trial for Vernon Blythe to relinquish what was, to him, one of +the greatest pleasures in life. He would have given anything in reason +to have had an opportunity to test the sailing powers, and seen the +behaviour of the saucy little _Water Witch_ under his guidance; and for +a while he felt half disposed to gratify his desire at the expense of +his duty. + +‘Shall I go?’ he asked himself as he strode onwards. ‘After all, it +will only be a day more, and I don’t half like the idea of Alice going +without me. She doesn’t mean any harm, I know--still, she is rather +free in her manners, and apt to say more than she means, and Reynolds +certainly admires her. Pshaw! I am talking nonsense! I have promised +to meet Mr Barber, and I must be firm. Besides, if Alice is not to be +trusted on a water-party without my protection, how am I to leave her +(as I soon may) to take a voyage to New Zealand alone? I must trust +her “all in all, or not at all.” I was a fool even to think of such a +thing!’ + +And starting off at a brisk pace, he soon reached his mother’s cottage. + +Mrs Blythe was on the look-out for her son’s return. He was her only +child, and she loved him as only a mother can love the one treasure of +her heart. His father, who was an officer in the Royal Navy, had been +drowned at sea whilst Vernon was a baby, and it had been the one wish +of her widowed life that her boy should not be a sailor. But as he grew +up, the inherited instinct developed itself, and she had been forced +to part with her darling; since which her life had been divided into +two parts only--the days when Vernon was at home, and the days when he +was not. Mrs Blythe always called her son ‘Vernon.’ It had been her +own maiden name, and she would recognise him by no other. She thought +the nickname of ‘Jack’ both low and vulgar, and was disgusted whenever +she heard him addressed by it. She was a round, rosy little woman, +very unlike her son, who inherited his beauty from his father, but she +was a good mother to him, and he loved her devotedly. Although she had +such good reason to hate and dread the sea, yet she felt she could not +live away from it, and had been settled in Southsea ever since her +husband’s death. Her cottage, which faced the common, was surrounded by +a pretty garden, enclosed by a wooden paling and a little rustic gate. +The room where she awaited her son was neatly furnished, the walls +being covered with the curiosities which Vernon, and his father before +him, had brought her home from different parts of the world. Talipots +and fans from Rangoon, and bangles and hookahs from Calcutta hung by +the side of skins and palm-leaf trophies from the West Coast, and green +stone and carved wooden weapons from Maori land. Daintily-painted +boxes, and wonderfully-carved pagodas were piled up with ornamented +whales’ teeth, and the inexhaustible fern leaves from St Helena, and +necklaces and poisoned spears from the Sandwich Islands. Here, in fact, +were to be seen specimens of art from every quarter of the globe, +and with a story attached to each, marking the milestones along the +widow’s path of life, and hallowed by her smiles and tears. The room +had more the appearance of a museum than a private dining-room, but +these innumerable curiosities were Mrs Blythe’s greatest treasures, +over which she brooded whilst her son was absent on his long sea +voyages. She had had him all to herself for twelve months now, but the +holiday was drawing to a close, and each day she dreaded to hear him +say that he must leave her. + +‘Well, Vernon, my darling!’ she exclaimed anxiously, as he entered the +room where his tea was ready laid for him; ‘what news have you to-day?’ + +‘None in particular, mother,’ he replied, throwing himself into a +chair. ‘I have been to dozens of firms, but it is the old story with +all of them.’ + +‘Something will spring up by-and-by,’ said Mrs Blythe, soothingly, ‘and +for my part I don’t care how long it may be first. But have your tea +now, dear. I am sure you must be tired.’ + +‘I am dead beat,’ replied Vernon, drawing his chair to the table. ‘I +called to-day on Stern & Stales, and saw their ship’s husband about the +appointment on board the _Pandora_. I told him how very anxious I am to +get it, but he is not sure if it is given away. However, he has four +passenger ships all going to New Zealand, and if the _Pandora’s_ berth +is filled, he has promised to try and get me on one of the others. If I +don’t hear from him by to-morrow I am to go up and see him again.’ + +Mrs Blythe gave a shrug of impatience. + +‘I can’t think,’ she said somewhat testily, ‘why you should be so +dreadfully anxious to sail in the _Pandora_.’ + +Her son regarded her with mild surprise. + +‘Why, mother, you know that the Leytons have secured their passages by +her. What is more natural than I should wish to go too?’ + +‘Well, if you do your duty on board ship, as I know you always do, you +will have no time to waste on making love to Alice Leyton.’ + +Vernon laughed in his lazy fashion. + +‘Perhaps not! but I shall be near her in case of her requiring me, and +when we get to New Zealand, I shall see her father and get the matter +settled. It is time it was settled, mother. We have been engaged now +for nearly a year, and I suppose that, sooner or later, we must be +married.’ + +‘It had better be later, then,’ replied Mrs Blythe, hotly. ‘For my +part, I think it is nonsense to hear you talk of such a thing as +marriage. A child like you, and without any money.’ + +‘The last objection is unfortunately true enough,’ replied Vernon; ‘but +as for being a child--well, all I can say is, I don’t feel like one. +And if Alice chooses to marry a poor man, that is her business, and no +one else’s.’ + +‘There is a much greater objection to the marriage, in my opinion, than +that, urged Mrs Blythe. ‘I don’t think Alice Leyton really cares for +you.’ + +‘Oh, mother, why should you say so. What right have you to think it. I +should never have proposed to her if I had not seen plainly that she +cared for me.’ + +‘Any fool could see that she set her cap at you, Vernon. But she is +not the only girl that has done that. And she is a flirt, my dear. I +daresay you will be angry with me, but I must speak the truth. Whilst +you are away in London, Alice Leyton is running about the common and +the pier with any man she can get hold of, and chattering--dear! dear! +how that girl’s tongue does run. I pity you if you are ever shut up +with it between four walls.’ + +The young man did not seem in the least angry at this tirade. He waited +till his mother had finished, and then he answered very quietly, but +determinately. + +‘Look here, mother dear. You mustn’t speak in that way of Alice. +Remember she will be my wife. Besides, you are quite mistaken. She is +not a flirt at all. She is very high-spirited, and has been brought +up in a free and easy manner (what with her father being away and her +mother an invalid), but that will be all altered by-and-by. She loves +me very dearly, for aught you may think, and when she is my wife, she +will be all that you can wish her to be--of that I am very sure.’ + +‘She may well love you,’ said Mrs Blythe, looking fondly at her son; +‘who could help loving you, Vernon? But there is another side to the +question, _Do you love her?_’ + +At that he started, and looked uneasy. Still his answer was given +manfully. + +‘Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? A dear, sweet little girl like that. +Why, mother, when I look at Alice, I think sometimes she’s just the +very prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Such eyes and teeth and skin! And +such a merry smile! She’s the very impersonation of a sunbeam! A man +couldn’t be unhappy with a creature like that by his side. She’d make +him laugh at a funeral.’ + +‘I acknowledge all that,’ said Mrs Blythe, shaking her head oracularly; +‘but giggles and blushes and good eyes don’t make the happiness of a +man’s life, when there’s nothing else behind them. And sometimes, my +boy,’ she continued, coming round to his side and putting her hand +caressingly upon his hair, ‘sometimes I fancy--now don’t be angry with +me, dear, for I wouldn’t vex you for the world--but sometimes I have +thought--’ + +‘Well, mother, what have you thought?’ asked Vernon, as he took her +hand in his and laid his cheek against it. + +‘That Alice Leyton is not your first fancy, Vernon, and that my boy has +had a disappointment of which I have never heard.’ + +His youthful cheek grew crimson, then. She could see the blood mounting +to his forehead and the roots of his hair. And when he answered her +his voice seemed suddenly to have changed. + +‘And what then?’ he said curtly. + +‘Is there no hope--no chance--my darling?’ asked Mrs Blythe. + +‘Not the slightest. Had there been, do you suppose I should have been +engaged to Alice Leyton? I don’t know how you have guessed there was +ever another, mother, but it all happened a long time ago, and I have +nearly forgotten it.’ + +‘Vernon, my dear, that is not true. You cannot have forgotten it, or +the allusion would not move you in this manner. And as for “long ago,” +why, you were only five-and-twenty last month. How soon did you begin +to fall in love?’ + +‘Never mind that, mother. Whenever it occurred, or however it affected +me, it is a thing of the past, and I would rather you never spoke of it +to me or any one again.’ + +‘And won’t you tell me who it was?’ said Mrs Blythe, kissing his +forehead. + +‘What is the use?’ he rejoined, wearily. + +Yet he knew, as he asked the question, that to tell her everything +would be a relief to him. He had suffered very deeply, and in all other +sufferings but this his mother had been his true confidant and friend. +And so, with a little gentle coaxing on her part, as they sat together +when the evening meal was concluded, he was induced to tell his tale. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II. + +VERNON, THE LOVER. + + +Few people who had only seen Vernon Blythe when in the pursuit of +the manly exercises in which most sailors delight, and in which he +especially excelled, would have recognised him now as he lay back in +his chair, with his delicate profile clearly limned against the evening +sky, and a look of abject pain in the eyes that watched the curling +wreaths of smoke that ascended from his pipe. There were two distinct +sides to this young man’s character, as there are to that of most of +us. To the outside world, and in the pursuit of his profession, he +was known as one of the most daring, courageous, and undaunted of +natures,--a man who did not know what it was to fear danger, to dread +a risk, or to leave an insult unavenged. He was brave, imprudent, and +hot-headed, but strictly generous and honourable. With his mother, +however, and in the sanctity of home, he was a different creature. +There his heart rose uppermost, and he became less guarded in his looks +and speech. There, as it were, he thought less of his manhood and men +friends, and more of himself and his private feelings. And so the +secret, which he believed to be entirely his own property, had slipped +from him unawares, and become his mother’s. But who can hide a beloved +child’s suffering from the eyes of his mother? And Vernon felt glad now +that it was so. + +‘Do you remember,’ he began presently, and in a lower voice than +usual,--‘do you remember, mother, the time after my second voyage, when +I had had that touch of Gold Coast fever, and you sent me up to Uncle +Vernon’s in Selkirk for three months to recruit?’ + +‘Certainly, dear. What of it?’ + +‘That was the time that it happened.’ + +Mrs Blythe almost jumped with surprise. + +‘But, good gracious, Vernon, you were too young for anything then! It +must be--let me see--quite five years ago. You were not a day over +twenty.’ + +‘I was old enough, it seems, to love--and to remember,’ he answered +quietly. + +‘And you have thought of the girl all this time? It appears incredible.’ + +‘Nevertheless it is true. But you must not infer from my words that I +have been grieving after her all this time. That would be most unfair +to Alice Leyton, and it would not be correct. I cannot forget her--I +wish I could--but I have ceased to lament the inevitable. Only, it has +cast a shadow over my life--which you seem to have perceived, and which +I know will be there until I die.’ + +‘Oh, my dear boy, you mustn’t say that. Everybody has a love-affair +or so before they settle down. Even _I_--dearly as I loved your +father--had had several admirers before I met him.’ + +‘Of course you had,’ rejoined Vernon fondly, with the _old_ manner that +seemed sometimes to sit so strangely on his youthful appearance; ‘heaps +of them, I should say, if the young men of that day had any gumption +about them. I often think, mother, what a dear, charming, genuine sort +of girl you must have been.’ + +He pinched her cheek as he spoke, and Mrs Blythe felt happier at +receiving his compliment, than she had ever done when the young men he +alluded to had paid theirs. + +‘Now don’t be foolish, my darling,’ she said, with an assumption of +indifference, as she settled her head-dress. ‘But what I say is true. +First love-affairs are seldom lasting.’ + +‘I daresay not; I hope not; although I fancy I have reached the climax +of my forgetfulness. Five years is a long time to fret after a woman, +and, indeed, I have tried hard to banish her from my mind. It is only +fair to dear little Alice that I should do so.’ + +‘But what went wrong with it, my boy?’ + +‘Everything, mother! I met her at a friend of uncle’s, and I loved her +from the very first. But she did not love me, and there was an end of +it. In fact, there was another fellow in the way.’ + +‘Was she so very beautiful, Vernon?’ + +‘No, I think not--at least, I never heard any one else say so. But to +me she seemed to have the most perfect face I had ever seen. When I +think of it now, it looks like the face of an angel. And everything she +said and did seemed right. I agreed with all her opinions. We liked the +same things--the same people--the same pursuits. Oh! what is the use of +thinking of it?’ he continued impatiently; ‘I suppose it was my fate +to meet her, and love her, and carry her remembrance in my heart for +ever afterwards. I have spoken of her this once, mother, because you +asked me. But it must never be again. I cannot bear it!’ + +‘But why couldn’t she love you?’ said Mrs Blythe plaintively. ‘It was +cruel of her not to undeceive you--such a lad as you were--from the +very beginning.’ + +‘That was not her fault, mother. You must not blame her. I don’t think +she was aware of my love until I confessed it to her. And then it was +too late.’ + +‘How “too late”?’ + +‘She was already engaged to be married to another man--a man of fashion +and means, and five years my senior--and two months afterwards she +became his wife, and there was an end to my mad dream for ever. And +perhaps it was better so than that she should have remained single, and +I gone on hoping against hope.’ + +‘What is her name, Vernon?’ + +‘Mother dear, I cannot tell you her name. Don’t ask me to do it. It is +sacred to me, as I thought my secret was, and I could not bear to think +it had passed my lips. Remember her only as the one great love of your +son’s life: it is the highest title you can give her.’ + +‘And do you know her husband?’ asked Mrs Blythe. + +‘No, certainly not,’ he answered roughly, ‘and, from all I have heard +of him, I never wish to know him. Let us drop the subject. But you will +understand better now my anxiety to marry Alice Leyton. Nothing could +contribute more to the healing of this mental wound than the constant +presence of a woman who loves me. The sunshine she will bring with her +will chase the last shadow away.’ + +‘It is terrible to hear you talk of “shadows” at your age, Vernon,’ +replied Mrs Blythe, wiping her eyes. + +‘Nonsense!’ he cried lightly, as he sprang from his chair; ‘we all +have them, more or less. My lot is no worse than that of other men. If +you treat my confidence in this serious strain, I shall never give you +another.’ + +‘No, don’t say that, my boy,’ replied his mother. ‘I love you for +having spoken to me as you have, and from this day I will never open my +lips upon the matter.’ + +‘That’s right,’ said Vernon, as he kissed her. ‘And now I’m going down +to the beach to have a look at the _Water Witch_, that is anchored +against the pier. I’ll be back to supper,’ and, with his pipe in his +mouth, and a forced smile upon his lips, he left her to herself. + +Having thoughtfully traversed the common that lay between them and the +sea, Vernon Blythe sat down on a bench just opposite where the yacht +was anchored, and surveyed her carefully. She certainly was a very +pretty little craft. Her narrow black hull, with its golden stripe, and +her tapering mast so gracefully raked, showed she was built for speed +and fine-weather sailing, and the very sight of her made Blythe wish +that he could retract his promise to the shipowner. + +‘Guess who it is!’ cried a merry voice behind him, as a pair of hands +were laid upon his eyes. + +‘It’s Alice, and you may belay that,’ replied Vernon, in the same tone. +‘You, have nearly pulled my moustaches out by the roots, and blinded +me with my own tobacco ash. Be sensible for once if you can, and come +round and sit down on the bench beside me.’ + +Alice Leyton, who was attired somewhat gaily for a promenade in a +garrison town, wriggled coquettishly to the front of the seat, and +stood smiling at her lover. She was just what he had called her to his +mother--one of the merriest, brightest girls in existence. She was +only eighteen years old. Her sunny hair hung in waving curls about +her face, and her laughing blue eyes, which never seemed dull or +weary, played fearful havoc with the weaker sex. Yet Alice Leyton was +no coquette. She flirted and romped with every one she could enlist +under her banner, but it was with a view to general enjoyment, rather +than to individual triumph. But with all her prettiness (which was +undeniable) she did not look high-class. She was dressed to attract +attention--innocent, maybe, but still attention--and she made the +very most of her neat ankles and small waist and well-developed bust. +Yet, after all, her charms were natural, and so were her manners. The +ringing laugh and happy, youthful face, the waving hair, and the fresh +colour, were all her own, and few men would have been found to deny +their fascination. + +‘Kiss me, Jack,’ she said effusively, as she held her rosy mouth +towards him. + +‘Not just yet, my dear child,’ he answered, smiling. ‘Why, there are a +dozen people looking at us. Wait till I get you to myself at home, and +I’ll show you what kissing means.’ + +‘Horrid boy! Perhaps I sha’n’t be in the humour then. “Paddy, take me +in the mind, and that’s just now,”’ pouted Alice. + +‘Well, you shouldn’t get in the mind in the middle of the common,’ +returned Jack. ‘You come and sit down, like a good girl, and behave +yourself properly.’ + +‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ she said, as she nestled up against +him. + +‘Spin away, Pussie! I’m all attention.’ + +‘You see the _Water Witch_ lying there?’ continued Alice. ‘Bob Reynolds +has bought her, and he is going to have a water-party to-morrow, and +wants me to join it; but I told him I couldn’t go without you.’ + +‘Oh! I see now why Reynolds was so anxious for my company,’ said Jack. +‘I thought it queer he should ask me to sail the _Water Witch_ for the +first time, when he boasts so much of his own seamanship.’ + +‘He _has_ asked you then!’ cried Alice. ‘And you will go, won’t you, +dear Jack?’ + +‘I am sorry to say I cannot promise,’ said Blythe, pulling his +moustaches. ‘I may be obliged to go up to town. I told Reynolds so an +hour ago.’ + +‘And I sha’n’t be able to go then,’ said Alice, in a tone of vexation. + +‘But why not, dear? Do you think that I cannot trust you, or that I am +so selfish as to grudge you any enjoyment in which I cannot take part +myself. We must not begin life on those terms, Alice. A sailor must +always be prepared to part from his wife, and our marriage must be one +of perfect trust on both sides, or it had better never take place at +all.’ + +‘Oh, bother marriage!’ cried Alice. ‘Who was thinking of such rubbish? +Not I. All I meant was, that I should be afraid to trust myself to +Bob Reynolds without you. Do you know that one day last year, when +you were in Calcutta, he took me out in a boat, and toppled me into +the water, and if it had not been for old Jerry Sparks, the waterman, +pulling off in his punt, I might have been drowned.’ + +‘He’s an awkward landlubber,’ said Jack, as he passed one of her curls +through his fingers. + +‘That’s a cool way of taking it, Jack. But it’s true, I can tell you. +He “cracked on” till the gunwale was under water, and we all had to +sit up to windward, and then played pranks with the sail until he +overturned the boat. And you wouldn’t like to see me drowned, would +you, Jack?’ she continued insinuatingly. + +‘No! That would not be nice at all,’ replied her lover; ‘besides, it +would spoil that pretty dress.’ + +‘Well, then, will you go and take care of me?’ + +‘I suppose I shall have to in the end; that is, if you are determined +to have your own way. Like the blessed Saint Anthony, I have resisted +all the other temptations, but the last one always proves too much +for me. Do you know that I have a chance of going out with you to New +Zealand, Alice, as second officer in the _Pandora_?’ + +‘Have you really? Oh, that will be great fun. But I hope they won’t let +you do what you like with the ship, or you may run us on a rock, or +something horrid.’ + +‘Thank you for the compliment. But I think you may feel perfectly +safe--not with me, but in the _Pandora_.’ + +‘Is she such a good ship then?’ + +‘She is an iron clipper, registered A1 at Lloyd’s.’ + +‘Now I am as wise as before.’ + +‘You will soon find out all about her when you get aboard. And I hope +sincerely I may be there too. You can guess the reason I am so anxious +to visit New Zealand, Alice.’ + +‘I can’t. What is it?’ demanded Alice, with open eyes. + +‘Because I want to make the personal acquaintance of your father, and +get him to fix some definite time for our marriage. I think it is time +we were married, Alice.’ + +‘_I_ don’t!’ cried the girl, shrugging her shoulders. + +‘Oh, yes, you do. That is only a little bit of mock modesty, put on +for the occasion. At any rate, that is my intention, in applying for +a berth in the _Pandora_. Your mother is all kindness to me, but I +think she is just a little afraid of what your father may say to our +engagement.’ + +‘You see,’ said Alice, kicking the stones with her feet, ‘father +is very well off, and there are only two of us, and mother thinks +perhaps--’ + +‘That he will not consider me a good enough match for his eldest +daughter. Well, with regard to money, that is true enough, although my +birth is second to none.’ + +‘But _I_ love you Jack, remember,’ said Alice, ‘and I mean to marry +you, whatever any one may say against it.’ + +‘Well, dearest, it will be better to get the matter settled any way. +I am sorry now that your mother has not been more explicit with Mr +Leyton, but she preferred to speak to him herself on the subject. If I +am lucky, I shall be there too, and between us all, we must carry the +day.’ + +‘Unless father thinks that, as mother is such an invalid, it is my duty +to remain with her and take care of her. Baby is of no use, you know.’ + +‘Alice!’ exclaimed Blythe suddenly, ‘tell me the truth! Do you _want_ +to marry me?’ + +‘Why, of course I do, Jack. Didn’t I fall in love with your handsome +face the first day we met?’ + +‘Oh, bother my handsome face!’ cried the young man impetuously. ‘_Do +you love me?_ That is the question? Does your heart speak to mine?’ + +‘How tiresome you are to-night,’ returned Alice. ‘What have I ever done +to make you think I don’t love you? Haven’t we talked of being married, +and told all our friends about it for a year past? Why,’ she continued +in a shy tone, ‘I marked one of my handkerchiefs A. B. the other day, +just to see how it looked, and I thought it was _lovely_.’ + +‘Dear girl,’ said Jack patronisingly, ‘that is finally settled then. +Whether I sail in the _Pandora_ or not, I shall make my way out to New +Zealand and ask your father to give you to me for my wife.’ + +‘But that will not be for a long time yet, and so we need not talk of +it any more,’ replied Alice. ‘Here is your mother, Jack, coming across +the common to meet us.’ + +Vernon rose as his mother advanced towards them. His politeness to her +was as great as it was to other women. + +‘Here is a letter for you from Stern & Stales, my dear,’ said Mrs +Blythe, ‘so I thought you would wish to see it at once.’ + +‘Thanks,’ cried Vernon, as he tore open the envelope. ‘Mother! you have +joined us most opportunely. Listen. + + ‘“DEAR SIR,--An accident has happened to the second officer of the + _Pandora_ through the snapping of an iron chain, which will prevent + him from sailing in the vessel. + + ‘“I am able, therefore, most unexpectedly to offer you the + appointment you desire. If you will be at the shipping office on the + seventeenth instant at twelve o’clock to meet Captain Robarts, you + can sign the necessary articles.” + +‘There’s good luck, mother. Won’t you wish me joy? Alice! we are to be +shipmates, and I can make up my mind now. I will join the party on the +_Water Witch_ to-morrow, and see that you behave yourself steadily. +Mother! I shall want all my things to be ready by the twenty-third.’ + +But Mrs Blythe was already half-way back across the common, sobbing as +if her heart would break. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III. + +IRIS HARLAND. + + +On the same evening that the newly-appointed officer of the _Pandora_ +was congratulating himself on his good luck, and trying to deceive +himself into believing he was in love with the girl he was engaged to +marry, a very different scene was being enacted in a furnished lodging +in one of the smaller streets of Pimlico. The chief actor there was +also a man--young, good-looking, and a gentleman--but with distinct +traces on his countenance of the tempest of passions and vices he had +passed through. He called himself Godfrey Harland. He was a fine, +well-built man, with dark hair, an olive complexion, and a black +moustache. His eyes, which were also dark and piercing, were set too +near his nose for honesty, and had a cunning, distrustful look in +them. His mouth was small, with thin compressed lips that covered a +set of strong white teeth, and his jaw was heavy and determined. As he +sat, pondering over his past and his future, with a cigar between his +lips, and a glass of brandy and water in his hand, he looked evil, and +almost dangerous. Godfrey Harland had had a chequered life. His father +had possessed a large fortune, and given his son, whilst young, the +advantages not only of a liberal education and college training, but +unlimited money to supply himself with all the luxuries, and indulge +in all the dissipations of life. But one day the crash came. Godfrey’s +father lost all his money in that great lottery which has ruined so +many thousands, the Stock Exchange, and his son suffered with him. He +was at once withdrawn from college, his ample allowance was stopped, +and he was told he must go out into the world and support himself. With +some great souls a reverse of fortune proves a stimulus to exertion, +and is the test that brings out their virtues. But weaker natures fail +under it, and Godfrey Harland’s nature was essentially weak. By reason +of his father’s former influence in the city, he was soon installed as +clerk in one of the best-known London firms. Before he had been there +three months, however, a mysterious forgery was committed by some one +in the house, and before the offender could be discovered Godfrey had +fled to America, thereby leaving a dark suspicion on his own name. + +In the United States he had tried his hand at everything. He tilled the +ground and lived with the farm hands in the warry on pork and beans. +He joined an old trapper in the Rocky Mountains, where he had many a +rough struggle with the ‘grizzlies,’ and left him for a cattle-herder +on a ranche in Texas, where he earned the _soubriquet_ of ‘Satan’ +amongst the drovers, for his dare-devil propensities. He was engaged in +many a night raid on the Indians, and sat in his saddle for three days +before a cattle stampede, and ‘knifed’ or ‘winged’ more than one man +in that wild territory, where shooting a fellow-creature is thought no +more of than felling a buffalo. + +In fact, Godfrey Harland had been everything by turns. A guard on the +Grand Trunk--a baggage man to a theatrical company--an able seaman on a +coaster--and last, though not least, a barman at a ‘hell-upon-earth’ in +New York, where he had imbibed his gambling propensities, and whence he +had ventured to return to England under an assumed name--not the first +he had taken--and make a new circle of acquaintances for himself. + +‘Curse that “Peppermint!”’ he was saying, when we first see him; ‘if he +had pulled it off at Aintree, I should have been safe. I can’t stand +much more of this. They must come down upon me before long. I wouldn’t +have minded my shaking at the Lincoln, though it was stiff enough. But +I believe they dosed “Peppermint,” and I owe all my debts to a painted +quid. By Jove! I should like to know how much old Roper’s worth. If +he would stand to lend me a “thou.,” I might make my running with +Vansittart’s daughter. I wonder if the old stock-driver meant what he +said the other night? Gad! what a stroke of luck it would be. A home at +the Antipodes--a settled position with all the old worries left behind +me in England, and the chance of an heiress. I mustn’t lose it, if I +stake my very soul upon the die. I shall never get such an opportunity +of retrenching again. Not if I live to the age of Methusaleh. Never!’ + +And he drained the glass of brandy and water with a feverish +impatience, as though the good fortune he was anticipating lay at the +bottom of it. + +At this juncture the door of the room opened, and a woman entered. What +a woman she was. What a graceful, refined, _spirituelle_ creature. Her +slight, lissom figure was the impersonation of elegance. Her hazel eyes +looked out from her pale features like those of a deer, heavy with +unshed tears. Her tender mouth was even now curved in a sad smile, +and her sunny hair, with its rich chesnut shades of light and shadow, +rippled about her shoulders, and curled caressingly around her youthful +face. She was dressed shabbily, and somewhat untidily, for it is hard +to keep always tidy when one is poor, but she looked a gentlewoman +from head to foot--more, she might have been a princess, masquerading +in a beggar’s clothes. And this was Iris Harland, Godfrey Harland’s +wife. What could a man like this want with a wife? He had never +been constant to one thing in this world. Was it likely he would be +constant to a woman? Iris knew to her cost that he was not. But she had +already outlived the pain the knowledge gave her. The numerous shocks +she had sustained since her marriage had rendered her indifferent. +Many an insult she had borne patiently from her husband, and without +resentment, until all her love had died away, and left nothing behind +it but a feeling of contempt and fear. + +Why had he married her? Godfrey Harland had often asked himself this +question and been unable to answer it. He was the last man in the +world who should have encumbered himself with a wife. But after his +return from America, he had met this girl living quietly with her +widowed father, and had fallen desperately in love with her purity and +innocence, so different from what he had been accustomed to. And Iris +had believed him to be all that he was not. His varied experiences, +and able mode of relating the wonders of his travels, had fascinated +her girlish heart, and made her accept him as her life-long companion +and friend. But six months of married life had undeceived her. By that +time, reverses had come upon them, and the man’s brutal and selfish +nature had revealed itself. His passion for her had been simply an +infatuation. He had been delighted with his pretty toy at first, but, +like a spoiled child, he spurned it, when it had become familiar to +him. He had wounded her deeply by his indifference; he had frightened +her with his violence and threats, but it was his insults that had +stabbed her to the heart, and killed her respect for him. Had he taken +a horse-whip and struck her (as he was quite capable of doing), she +might still have forgiven him, but an insult to a woman’s honour is +never forgotten, and seldom pardoned. Many women will slave for their +husbands night and day--they will starve themselves to keep the wolf +from the door, and give up home, relations, luxury, everything, for +the man they love. But as soon as a man returns his wife’s affection +by falsely impugning her honour--when he accuses her of the infidelity +of which he alone has been guilty--he has severed the last link that +bound them together, and has only himself to thank, if in the future +her outraged feelings find relief in the very consolation he has +unwarrantably accused her of seeking. Such was the state of things +between Godfrey Harland and his wife. A sullen sense of being in the +wrong on his side, and a great contempt for all he did and said on +hers--and only one wish shared between them in common, that they had +never met! + +‘Here is a letter for you,’ said Mrs Harland, as she placed it in his +hand. He opened and read it through in silence, although he could not +conceal the satisfaction it gave him. + +‘A man wants to see me on business. I must go out to-night, and at +once. Is there any more brandy in the cupboard, Iris?’ said Godfrey, as +he thrust the letter into his coat pocket. + +‘Is it advisable you should drink any more if you are going to transact +business?’ she inquired calmly. She had observed her husband’s +expression on reading the letter, and his ready concealment of it, and +she did not believe it treated of business. But she did not say so. +If her marriage had done nothing else for her, it had taught her to +conceal her thoughts. + +‘Confound you!’ he exclaimed. ‘Do you suppose I should ask for it, if +I didn’t require it? Give it me at once, or else send the girl out for +some more. Pour me out a soda, and put a couple of lemons into it, and +a spoonful of bitters. That will pull me round a bit. I feel quite +confused with trying to see my way out of the mess we are in.’ + +‘Shall you be back to-night, Godfrey?’ + +‘Don’t know. It all depends. Perhaps I may be detained late. I’ve got +to see some fellows at the club; but don’t sit up for me any way. And +just put out my dress clothes, will you? I can’t go out this figure,’ +and lifting the tankard to his lips, he drained off his ‘pick-me-up’ at +a draught. + +His wife left him without another word. Her lips were compressed, and +her eyes darted scorn, but she did not let him see them. She knew he +had lied to her, as he had done for some time past, but if she put him +on his guard, she should never gain an opportunity to learn the truth. +So she laid out his evening suit upon the bed, and placed his white +tie upon the toilet-table, and lighted the candles just as though she +believed he would take all that trouble to meet some man on business +at a city club. And Godfrey Harland fell into the trap. Heated and +confused by the amount of liquor he had imbibed, he forgot all about +the letter he had received, and issued from the bedroom half-an-hour +afterwards in full evening dress, leaving it behind him in the pocket +of his tweed coat. He did not deign to say good-night to his wife, nor +to give her any further information of his proceedings, but turning on +his heel, slammed the front door, and left the house. When Iris was +convinced that he was really gone, she rose from her seat and walked +into the bedroom. + +‘I _must_ know what takes him away from home so often,’ she thought. +‘I am sure it is not business, and if there is any other woman in +the case, it is time I asserted myself, and took some action in the +matter. Under any circumstances, he makes my life a hell, but there +is no need for me to bear more insult than I am obliged to.’ She put +her hand into the pocket of the coat which he had thrown upon a chair, +and drew forth the letter. It was addressed in a writing which looked +half mercantile, and half illiterate, and had a great many flourishes +about it. As Iris’s eyes fell on its contents, her pale face grew still +paler with horror. Godfrey had been brutal, unfaithful, and cruel to +her, but she had never thought so badly of him as this--that he could +contemplate kicking her off like an old shoe, and leaving her to starve +in England, whilst he sought his fortunes in a new country. + +And yet, what else could that letter mean? + + ‘DEAR MR HARLAND,--I have been thinking over the conversation we + had a few days since; and I have a proposition to make to you. + You are young, unencumbered, and willing to work. Why not take + the appointment we were speaking of--that of land-agent to my + New Zealand property, and sail with us in the _Pandora_. Under + these circumstances I shall be happy and willing to defray your + expenses to Tabbakooloo, which I should not have offered under + ordinary circumstances. Mrs But Vansittart likes you, and so does + Grace--indeed, we all do, and should be pleased to have such a friend + in our Bush life. Will you come in this evening and speak to me on + the subject, as there is no time to lose. The _Pandora_ (Messrs Stern + & Stales) sails on the 24th. Trusting my proposal will please you,--I + am, yours sincerely, + + JOHN VANSITTART.’ + +‘He means to accept this offer,’ said Iris, with clenched teeth, and +trying hard not to cry. ‘He will go with these fine friends of his +to New Zealand, and I am powerless to stop him. If I tell him I know +it, he will soothe me with promises of remittances that will never +come--and I--Oh, God! what _can_ I do, left here all by myself--without +money or friends, or a home? Oh, if my poor father had only lived I +would have gone back to him to-night and never, _never_ left him more.’ + +The picture drawn by her imagination of her utter impotence to avert +her fate, here overcame poor Iris’s fortitude, and the tears welled up +to her pathetic hazel eyes, and coursed slowly down her cheeks. But she +did not know that she was sobbing, until a knock at the door made her +cognisant she had been overheard. + +‘It’s me, mistress,’ whispered a rough voice; ‘mayn’t I come in?’ + +‘Oh yes, Maggie. What do you want?’ said Iris, drying her eyes. + +‘_Want!_’ echoed the servant, as she made her appearance; ‘why, to know +what’s been vexing you. That’s what I want.’ + +She was a dirty, slipshod girl, after the fashion of maids-of-all-work +in smoky London, but she had youth and a certain coarse comeliness +about her which might prove attractive to men who looked for nothing +below the surface. + +‘Has _he_ been bulleying you agen?’ she asked, with rough sympathy, +as she stood in the doorway and regarded her mistress. ‘It’s a +shame--that’s what I say--and I’d like to pay him out for it. That I +would.’ + +‘Hush! Maggie; you mustn’t say that!’ remonstrated Iris. ‘Of course, +you know I am not happy, but you have been in your master’s pay for +several years, and you mustn’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ + +‘I’d never have stayed if it hadn’t been for _you_, mistress--nor if +he had treated you properly neither. And perhaps, after all, I’ve been +wrong to stay,’ said Maggie, with a sob in her throat. + +‘_Wrong to stay!_’ repeated Iris in surprise. ‘Why, Maggie! what should +I have done without you?’ + +‘Ah! but you don’t know,’ cried the servant. + +‘I know that you’ve been the best girl to me that ever lived,’ said +Iris, gently. ‘That you have stood my friend through everything--often +my protector--and that I have found my best comfort in you.’ + +The only answer Maggie made to this speech was conveyed by throwing +herself on her knees at her mistress’s feet, and burying her +disorganised head in her lap. + +‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ she gasped through her tears. ‘I ain’t +deserving of it; and if you knew what a bad girl I am, you’d turn me +out of your house to-morrow.’ + +‘I don’t think I should, Maggie. If I believed you to be bad (which I +don’t) I should try to return your kindness to me by pointing out a +better mode of life to you. But don’t talk nonsense. I have no fault to +find with you--so you need find none with yourself.’ + +‘You’re an angel, that’s what you are,’ said Maggie, standing up and +drying her eyes, ‘and I’m a brute, and so is he. But what vexes you +now, my pretty?’ + +This question brought poor Iris back to a remembrance of her own +troubles. + +‘Oh! I can’t tell you, Maggie--at least not yet--for I am not even sure +if I have any right to feel vexed. But my future looks very dark to +me--very dark indeed, and I cannot help fretting to think what may be +in store.’ + +‘And _he’s_ at the bottom of it, of course,’ observed Maggie, with an +irreverent motion of her thumb towards the sitting-room. + +Iris sighed. Was _he_ not at the bottom of all her troubles? + +‘Has that letter got anything to do with the matter, mistress?’ asked +Maggie, looking at the paper in her hand. + +‘Yes; but don’t ask me any more questions about it, Maggie. If Mr +Harland forces me to act, I promise you shall know all.’ + +‘You _promise_ that, mistress, on your word of honour?’ + +‘I do promise, dear Maggie,’ replied Iris, bending forward to kiss the +earnest face raised to hers. But Maggie started as if she had been shot. + +‘No! no! you sha’n’t kiss me! I ain’t fit for you to touch. But let me +kiss your hand, dear. There! that can’t hurt you--and I wouldn’t hurt +you (God knows), not to save my own life.’ And with a smothered sob, +and an application of her grimy apron to her eyes, Maggie Greet took +her way down to the lower regions again. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IV. + +LES NOUVEAUX RICHES. + + +Of course the Vansittarts occupied the biggest and most expensive house +they had been able to procure on taking up their residence in London. +They were _nouveaux riches_ of the very first water. John Vansittart, +the head of the family, was the son of a respectable Berkshire farmer, +who had given him a thousand pounds as a start in life, with which the +young man had gone out to New Zealand, and invested in a sheep run, +which had resulted in his becoming a millionaire. Yet no extraordinary +good luck had contributed to his success. He had simply been frugal +and painstaking, and kept his eyes open, and married a woman who +helped instead of hindered him. And now, at sixty years of age, he was +celebrated for being one of the largest sheepowners in New Zealand. He +had not married early, and his only child, a daughter called Grace, was +just twenty years old. She had been in England much longer than her +parents. They had sent her home to a fashionable boarding-school at +twelve years of age, and had not found time to join her until a year +before this story opens. They had returned to England with an idea of +remaining there, but they had soon changed their minds. Their bush life +had unfitted them for society. Satins and laces and shining broadcloth +sat uneasily upon them, and both Mr and Mrs Vansittart longed for the +moment when they should settle down in their New Zealand home again. +Not that they would admit, even to themselves, that the whirl and +bustle, the pomp and formality, of a London life were too much for +them. On the contrary, they blamed the great Metropolis for being slow +and stupid, and would not allow that anything it produced could equal +the same article in New Zealand. They were both very fat, and simple, +and goodnatured--extravagantly proud of their fashionable daughter +Grace, who did not acquiesce in the opinions of her parents--and ready +to spend their money like water, because they really did not know what +else to do with it. They lived in a splendid mansion overlooking the +park, which had been furnished from basement to attic, at the sweet +will of the upholsterer, and consequently bore the impress of wealth +upon every part of it. The hall was carpeted with bear and tiger skins, +and hung with armour and stuffed deers’ heads, interspersed with blue +and white Nankin China, and beaten brass from Benares. The drawing-room +was furnished in the style of Louis Quatorze, and opened into a vast +conservatory, rich with tropical plants. In the dining-room, the walls +of which were hung with stamped leather, and lighted by silver sconces, +were to be found as many portraits of gallant lords and lovely ladies, +figuring in the costumes of three and four hundred years before, as if +John Vansittart had come of a long line of noble ancestors, instead of +being unable to trace his pedigree beyond the loins of the Berkshire +farmer, whose father had been an unknown quantity. The whole house +reeked of money, but, strange to say, it did not oppress one as such +things usually do. The fact is, the owners of these extravagancies did +not value them one whit because they had cost money. They were ready +to leave them all behind to-morrow--indeed, they were going to do so; +and John Vansittart had remarked more than once to his wife, that it +was a pity they hadn’t some good friend to whom they could make over +the whole lot as a present, instead of letting them go for nothing at +auction. But that was just their trouble. They had no friends--hardly +any acquaintances. Grace had come home to them, fresh from her school, +and good, honest Mrs Vansittart was not the sort of woman to push her +way into society, even with the aid of her enormous wealth. She was too +shy and retiring to do so. That was the reason they had become intimate +with Godfrey Harland. He had met Mr Vansittart first in the city, and, +passing himself off as a bachelor, had been taken home to the big house +in the park by that gentleman, and introduced to his family. They had +all received him with open arms. He was good-looking, fashionable, +and very wide awake. He put the father up to all sorts of dodges. He +flattered the mother, and helped her out of all her difficulties, and +he (almost) made love to the daughter. At least he showed her a great +deal of attention, and Grace Vansittart repaid it in kind. It was +natural she should. He was about the only ‘swell’ (as she would have +expressed it) who came to their house, and her fashionable training +had taught her to discriminate, and to like ‘swells.’ She hated the +idea of settling in New Zealand, although she could not of course +go against her parents’ wishes, and would very much have preferred +marrying, and remaining in England. Had he been single, Harland would +have found it an easy game to play. He might even have been left in +possession of the palatial house and furniture. But the house would +not have suited his purpose, as we know. He was not actually planning +to commit bigamy--he was not even sure if he wished it--but he was +sorely in need of the father’s money, and at any rate he felt he must +make a friend of the daughter. But his friendship was conducted on such +sentimental terms it might easily have been mistaken for courtship. +Mr and Mrs Vansittart so mistook it. They were very fond and proud +of their one ewe lamb, and watched her carefully; and they had often +remarked to each other that if they didn’t mind it would come to a +match between their Grace and Mr Harland. + +‘And he ain’t got much money, I don’t think! You must mind that, +father,’ the old lady would say. + +‘Lor’! mother, and if he hasn’t--where’s the harm?’ Mr Vansittart +replied. ‘Haven’t we got enough for all? Not but what Harland’ (I am +afraid he said ’Arland) ‘dresses very particular, and always looks the +gentleman. However, I sha’n’t throw my gal away--you may make your +mind easy about that; but if the young feller likes to come out to New +Zealand with us, and shows me as he can work, and has no nonsense about +him, and our Grace sets her heart upon him--why, all I shall say is, +please yourself, my dear, and you’ll please me.’ + +And so it was that John Vansittart came to offer the position of +land-agent to Godfrey Harland. + +‘Do you know anything of Mr Harland’s family or relations, John?’ said +his wife, when he told her what he had done. + +‘Quite as much as I want to, my dear. I met the young man at Aintree, +walking about with Lord Sevenoaks and Colonel Fusee--good enough +credentials, I should think, for any one--and he gave me his opinion of +the horses that were running. I should have lost all round if it hadn’t +been for him. But he’s very wide awake--got his eyes well open--just +the very sort of man we want out there. Dash his family! What do we +care about family? We ain’t got none ourselves. And any one can see +he’s a gentleman born--and he’s got no encumbrances, and if he’s +willing to come with us, why, I’m the man to take him, that’s all.’ + +‘And I’m sure he’ll never repent his decision,’ said Mrs Vansittart, +plaintively; ‘for no one who once saw our Wellington or Canterbury +could ever wish to set his foot in this dull and dirty London again.’ + +When Godfrey Harland reached the Vansittart’s residence that evening, +he was at once ushered into the library, where the master of the house +was evidently awaiting him. + +‘I told ’em to show you in here first, Mr Harland,’ he commenced, +cordially shaking hands, ‘as I thought you and me might settle this +little matter before joining the ladies. Of course, you’ve received my +letter.’ + +‘About an hour ago,’ replied Godfrey. ‘I came on as soon as ever I +could.’ + +‘Ah! I thought that would fetch you,’ chuckled the old man. ‘You +unmarried men are lucky dogs, to have no one to say, “With your leave,” +or “By your leave” to as you go in or out.’ + +‘We don’t always think so, sir.’ + +‘No, you don’t know when you’re well off. Well, if you take my advice, +you’ll remain as you are--for some time to come, at least. But this +ain’t business! What do you say to my proposal, Mr Harland?’ + +‘That if I can fulfil the duties, the position will suit me down to the +ground.’ + +‘Oh! the duties is easy enough. I shall want you to be under myself, +and do all the palavering and writing that I can’t manage. You see, Mr +Harland, I’m a rich man, but I’m a plain man, and I haven’t had much +education, so that when I want to invest money, or transact a heavy +sale, figures and such things are a trouble to me. I call the place +“a land-agent’s,” because I don’t know a better name for it. But, in +reality, it’s a friend and help that I want, and if you’re willing to +undertake the situation, why, it’s yours.’ + +‘I accept it with gratitude,’ replied Harland. ‘As I have told you +honestly, I have been living very much from hand to mouth lately, on +account of serious losses through the defalcations of a friend, and was +on the look-out for active employment. Your offer suits me exactly. I +have long wished to visit New Zealand, and am charmed at the prospect +of doing so in such company. I thank you very much for thinking of me.’ + +‘That’s settled then, sir; but we haven’t mentioned money yet. I will +pay your passage out, and give you six hundred pounds for the first +year. What I shall do afterwards, we’ll talk of afterwards. Will that +satisfy you for the present?’ + +‘Perfectly,’ said Harland, quietly. The game was in his own hands now, +and he was quivering with delight, but he did not want the old man to +see it. + +‘And perhaps you’d like a little advance for your outfit,’ continued +Vansittart. + +‘If it’s perfectly convenient,’ stammered Harland. + +‘Of course, it’s convenient,’ replied the other, as he wrote a cheque +for fifty pounds, and pushed it across the table to him. ‘I expected +as you’d want it. And now, remember this, my boy. Though I like you +well enough, I’ve given you the appointment as much for the sake of my +wife and daughter as myself. For they’ve both taken a fancy to you, +and want you to go out with us, and so any little attention you can pay +them on the voyage--I being but a poor sailor--will be very thankfully +received, and valued accordingly.’ + +‘It will be my greatest pleasure to look after Mrs and Miss Vansittart +on board the _Pandora_, and supply your place as far as possible,’ +replied Harland, gracefully. + +‘Very good,’ said his host. ‘We’ve settled the matter now, and can join +the ladies.’ + +So Godfrey Harland, looking quite a ‘swell’ in his well-cut evening +suit, entered the drawing-room a minute afterwards, with fifty pounds +in his pocket, and something very much like _carte blanche_ to make +love to the heiress of the Vansittarts. The mother received him with +unfashionable cordiality, shaking his hand vehemently in token of the +new bond between them, whilst the daughter beamed welcome upon him +with her eyes, from the depths of a large arm-chair, half shrouded +from observation by a gigantic palm which rose six feet high from an +Etruscan vase of costly majolica. + +Grace Vansittart, with the light weight of twenty summers on her brow, +was an attractive young woman, although her lowly origin was plainly +traceable in the style of her beauty. A prolonged and fashionable +training had done much to make a lady of her, and her milliners +contributed largely to the general effect. But nothing could do away +with the deep colouring, the large hands and feet, and the somewhat +coarse voice that remained to her as the heritage of her forefathers. +She had rich brown hair and eyes, a straight thick nose, a rather +full-lipped mouth, and a figure which, though very tempting under the +rounded lines of girlhood, would probably be too much of a good thing +ten years later. She was attired in an expensive dress of some _mauve_ +material, much covered with laces and drapery, and her ears, arms, +neck, and fingers glittered with gold and jewellery. She threw a long +look at Godfrey from her full brown eyes, as he approached her chair, +which emboldened him to take a seat beside her. + +‘So you are really going out with us to Tabbakooloo,’ she said, with a +smile. + +‘Yes. Are you sorry?’ + +‘I don’t know. You may be useful on the voyage out. I shall want a +great deal of waiting on, I warn you.’ + +‘You cannot possibly want more than I shall be proud to render you,’ +replied Godfrey. + +‘That is really a very nice speech. You make me quite eager to start, +and put your gallantry to the test.’ + +‘Well, it will not be long now. I think Mr Vansittart told me the +_Pandora_ sails on the 24th.’ + +‘Three months at sea!’ exclaimed Grace, shrugging her shoulders. ‘What +an awful prospect. I hope you will think of something very nice, Mr +Harland, to make the time pass quickly.’ + +‘I will do my best. Are you fond of reading or playing games? Are you a +chess player? And if not, shall I teach you? I don’t know a better plan +to make time fly.’ + +‘I really have no choice. I shall leave that to you. But I hope we are +going to be great friends. Do you think we shall?’ + +‘I am _sure_ of it,’ replied Godfrey fervently. + +‘Harland,’ interrupted Mr Vansittart at this juncture, ‘have you any +engagement for this evening?’ + +‘None, sir. I am completely at your service.’ + +‘Well, then, you had better stay here to-night, and go with me to the +shipping office the first thing to-morrow morning to secure your berth. +Time’s getting on, you know, and if we delay it, we may not be able to +get you a comfortable one.’ + +This proposal did not at all meet with Harland’s views. He had no wish +that a servant should be despatched from Mr Vansittart’s house to his +own, to bring back his morning clothes, and all the information Maggie +might choose to give him. And so he readily forged a lie to excuse +himself. + +‘I should like it above all things, sir,’ he stammered, ‘but if you +will allow me to join you at the office to-morrow morning, I will be +there at any hour you name. The fact is, I _must_ sit up to-night +writing. This sudden stroke of fortune has brought a few cares with it. +There is a little property of mine in the north that I must put at once +into other hands, and my yacht--’ + +‘Oh, you keep a yacht then!’ exclaimed Vansittart, rather surprised at +the owner of such an expensive luxury jumping so readily at the offer +he had made him. + +‘I _did_ keep one before I experienced the heavy losses of which I have +told you,’ resumed Godfrey, ‘and though she is let at present to a +friend, I must make arrangements for her going to the hammer when his +lease is up.’ + +In his anxiety to prevent any unlucky _contretemps_ revealing the +true state of his domestic affairs, Godfrey Harland would have given +himself a stable full of horses, and an opera box at Her Majesty’s, +and a few dozen carriages to dispose of, in another minute, if his +host, recognising the reasons he had already given as sufficient, had +not cheerfully consented to his proposal to meet him at the offices of +Messrs Stern & Stales on the morrow. And so, not quite knowing whether +to be confounded or elated by his sudden run of luck, Harland bade his +benefactors good-night. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER V. + +BREAKERS AHEAD. + + +Godfrey Harland did not go home that night. He was contemplating the +commission of a crime, and he felt little remorse upon the subject, but +he dreaded the questioning of his wife as to where he had been and what +he had been doing. Iris was a timid and long-suffering woman, but she +had an unpleasant habit of looking one straight in the eyes whilst she +waited for an answer, which made it most difficult to tell her a good +lie, and stick to it. So the less he saw of her whilst he remained +in England, he thought, the better, and he had already concocted an +excuse for pretending to go into the country. He put up for the night +at one of his low haunts, and despatched a dirty messenger for his +clothes in the morning. As (punctual to his appointment) he walked up +to the shipping office to meet his employer, he saw, already standing +before it the handsome barouche with its thoroughbred bay steppers, +that seemed like an earnest of his own future success. As he entered +the office, which was crowded with clerks, messengers, seamen, and +passengers, Mr Vansittart came forward and shook him warmly by the hand. + +‘Punctual to a minute,’ he said, smiling; ‘that’s the proper way to do +business. I see that you and me will get on first-rate together.’ + +The welcome raised Harland’s spirits, and drove away sundry fears and +qualms that had been lurking in his heart. Surely the grim Fates were +on his side at last. His luck had turned, and the wheels of life, +greased by prosperity, would revolve smoothly for the future. He +answered his friend’s greeting with a light laugh, and a _debonnair_ +air, that made him appear more charming than ever. + +Mr Vansittart went to business at once, and in a few minutes a +first-class passenger ticket for the _Pandora_ was made out, signed, +paid for, and safely deposited in Mr Harland’s pocket-book. He had +played and won. London and its dark associations seemed to be already +fading from his view, and New Zealand and a free life, unburdened by +cares or encumbrances, was spreading out before him. + +‘And now, my boy! Can I set you down anywhere?’ asked Mr Vansittart. +‘I am bound to call at my bankers, but I will drive you to your +destination first if you desire it.’ + +Harland would greatly have liked to show himself by the side of the +millionaire in his splendid equipage, but he knew it would be safer +not to do so, and so he declined the offer. He had his private reasons +for wishing to keep quiet until he was safely out of England. If some +of his friends got wind of his being hand and glove with a wealthy man, +it might be all up with his dream of enfranchisement. So he professed +to have business in another direction. + +‘Thanks, Mr Vansittart, but I am running down to Portsmouth to-day +about that little yacht of mine, and have promised to wait here for a +friend. Don’t let me detain you. When would you wish to see me again?’ + +‘When will you be back in town?’ + +‘To-morrow, at latest.’ + +‘Come up and dine with us then, at seven, and we will discuss the +arrangements for the voyage--we have not too much time. In ten days +more we shall be upon the sea.’ + +‘Thank God!’ ejaculated Harland, as the carriage drove away. He waited +about for a minute or two, to make sure Mr Vansittart would not return, +and then prepared to slink off in an opposite direction. But as he +passed through the swinging door of the office into the street, he came +face to face with a man, who recognised him without ceremony. + +‘Hallo! Cain,’ he exclaimed loudly. ‘Who the d--l would have expected +to see you here? I thought you were in America.’ + +The speaker was a fine stalwart young fellow, but evidently of a much +lower standing than Godfrey Harland. The latter was taken completely by +surprise, but had the presence of mind to draw himself up stiffly, and +say,-- + +‘I beg your pardon, sir. I have not the pleasure of knowing you,’ and +with that he essayed to pass out. But the new-comer was not to be put +off so easily. + +‘_Not know me!_’ he repeated. ‘Where are your eyes. I should have known +you five miles off. My name is William Farrell. Have you forgotten old +Starling, and the row there was in the office when you left?’ + +‘I repeat that I have not the honour of your acquaintance,’ rejoined +Harland, reddening, however, to the brows. ‘Nor do I know to what you +refer. It is a case of mistaken identity, sir, and as I am in a hurry, +perhaps you will kindly let me pass on.’ + +But Will Farrell planted himself right in the doorway. + +‘No! I’ll be d--d if I will--not until you have told me the truth. If +you have forgotten _me_, I remember _you_ well enough, ‘_Mr Horace +Cain_.’ + +‘For God’s sake, hold your tongue, man,’ cried Godfrey, thrown off his +guard; ‘or come with me where we can talk in privacy.’ + +‘Ah! I thought that would freshen your memory,’ said the other, with a +harsh laugh. + +Harland did not know at first what to do. He had recognised this man +at once as a former companion at the desk, and his turning up at this +inopportune moment might prove the most unlucky move in the world. At +all risks he must be conciliated, and kept quiet. + +But Harland felt less ready with a lie than usual. He, who was seldom +without one at the tip of his tongue, was cowed and nervous by +Farrell’s allusion to the past, and could hardly decide what to do, or +say. But in another moment his natural aptitude for deceit had returned +to him. + +‘Of course, I remember you now, Farrell, though I must confess that at +first your face did not seem familiar to me. It is some years since we +met, and you have changed, as doubtless _I_ have, too.’ + +‘It is to be hoped so,’ interrupted Farrell, with an unpleasant sneer. + +‘But I am always glad to meet an old acquaintance,’ continued Godfrey, +ignoring the interruption. ‘I shall be pleased to have a talk with you +over old times There is a little place near here where they know me. +Will you walk round and have something to drink?’ + +But the bait did not seem to take. + +‘I don’t drink so early in the morning,’ replied Farrell; ‘besides, I +have business here.’ + +‘What is your business?’ + +‘Well, I don’t know that it concerns you, but I have nothing to +conceal. I am going out to New Zealand in the _Pandora_, on the 24th.’ + +‘The devil, you are!’ cried Godfrey. ‘Why, we shall be fellow-passengers.’ + +‘How’s that? Do you sail in her too? Is the country getting too hot for +you again?’ asked Farrell. + +‘Not at all,’ replied Harland, with assumed dignity. ‘I have come into +some money, and am travelling with friends for my own pleasure.’ + +‘Indeed! Swells, I suppose. What class do you go?’ + +‘First, of course.’ + +‘Well, I go second, of course, as I pay for myself, so we shall not see +much of each other, thank goodness! on the voyage.’ + +‘That will not be _my_ fault,’ said Godfrey, blandly, still nervously +bent on his efforts at conciliation. + +‘But it will be mine if we _do_,’ returned Farrell, fiercely. ‘Look +you here, Horace Cain, I can see through your soft words plain enough. +You’re afraid of me, as you’ve got good cause to be, and it would have +been all the better for you if you’d told the truth when you first met +me, and not tried to sneak out of it by a lie.’ + +‘Do you threaten me, fellow?’ exclaimed Harland, forgetting his +prudence in his anger. ‘I’ll soon teach you the difference between us.’ + +‘I don’t need any teaching to see the difference between an honest man +and a forger,’ retorted Farrell. + +‘How _dare_ you?’ cried Godfrey, white with rage. + +‘Won’t I _dare_?’ replied Farrell, with an insolent laugh. ‘Just you +cross my path, Mr ---- Mr ----’. + +‘Godfrey Harland, if you please,’ interposed the other, haughtily. + +‘Oh! that’s the new name, is it?’ continued Farrell. ‘A very pretty one +too. Just like a novel. Well, it was about time you dropped the other, +_Horace Cain_.’ + +‘Oh, cease this cursed nonsense,’ cried Harland. ‘I don’t want to +quarrel with you. Why should you quarrel with me? If any suspicion fell +upon you for acts for which I was responsible, it wasn’t _my_ fault. +And it’s all past and over now. Come, man, don’t be sulky. Let us go +and drown the remembrance of it in a B. and S.’ + +But Will Farrell hung backwards. + +‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s folly to quarrel over it at this +time of the day, but I can’t drink at your expense all the same. The +business you speak of so lightly spoiled my life and made me reckless. +That mayn’t seem much to you, but it’s everything to me. And I hope, if +you come across me on the voyage, that you won’t speak to me, Mr--_Mr +Harland_.’ + +‘We are not very likely to come across one another,’ replied Godfrey +grandly. ‘I don’t think the second-class passengers are allowed beyond +the quarter-deck. And therefore you need not disquiet yourself on that +score.’ + +‘All the better for me,’ quoth Farrell, surlily, as he pushed past him +to enter the shipping office. + +Godfrey Harland, as he strolled away and thought over the interview, +felt very uncomfortable about it. It was an unlucky star that had +placed Will Farrell, of all men in the world, on board the _Pandora_, +with himself. If he had only had the good fortune to sail before or +after him, he need never have known he was in the same country. He was +almost tempted to get up some illness on the part of himself or a near +relation as an excuse to change his ticket and follow the Vansittarts +by another vessel. But England was becoming dangerous ground for him. +The delay of a fortnight might render him unable to leave it at all. +He stood between two fires. He saw his creditors pressing on him on +one side, and Will Farrell denouncing his past character on the other, +and he decided that Farrell was the least dangerous enemy of the two. +He had not the same motive for betraying him. He would gain nothing +himself by raking up the old scandal, and to hold his tongue might +prove a benefit to him. Harland would occupy a good position in the new +country, and be able to help Farrell on. The man would see that when he +sat down to reason calmly. And so he determined to think as little of +the unpleasant _contretemps_ as he might. Yet it haunted him throughout +the day, and made his future look far less bright than it had done. +He was bound to encounter his wife, too, that evening, and he wished +the ordeal was over. He had an excellent story to tell her, but it +required a large amount of Dutch courage to go through with it. So that +Godfrey Harland had drank a great deal more than was good for him when +he stumbled up the steps of his own house that evening. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VI. + +A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING. + + +Iris was looking forward to her husband’s return with an amount of +determination that would have astonished any one who had seen her only +in her moments of nervous prostration, when his insults and cruelty had +opened her eyes to the folly of which she had been guilty in marrying +him, at the same time that she felt her utter impotence to cope with +the fate she had brought on herself. But there are points beyond which +even the weakest will turn to defend themselves, and such an era had +been reached in Iris Harland’s life now. She had carefully thought over +the news which Mr Vansittart’s letter to her husband had revealed to +her, and her mind seemed suddenly to have grasped the whole meaning of +Godfrey’s late behaviour. He intended to desert her. He had made these +new friends, who evidently believed him to be unmarried, and he had +concealed all his liabilities--domestic and otherwise--from them, and +would in all probability accompany them to this new world, and begin +life over again, leaving her to perish or to maintain herself as best +she could, so long as he was quit of her. He had often threatened so to +leave her, but she had never quite believed he would have the cruelty +to carry his threats into execution. But now she did. Certain late +outrages in his treatment of her had made her believe him capable of +anything, even of getting her out of his way, if she stood in it. Mr +Vansittart’s letter said that the _Pandora_ sailed on the 24th. That +was only ten days off. Surely, if Godfrey accepted the offer made to +him, he would give her some warning of his intentions. At all events, +she would wait and watch. If he carried his cruel threats into effect, +she had made up her mind what to do. But the means. How was she to +obtain the means to baffle her husband’s scheme to rid himself of her. +The poor child sat and thought with her head in her hands all through +the livelong day, without having come to any solution of the riddle, +whilst Maggie hovered round her, dissolved in tears, entreating her +to have a cup of tea, or to go to bed, or to tell her what was on her +mind. At last, as the evening drew near, Iris heard her husband’s +latch-key fumbling uncertainly in the keyhole, and knew that he had +returned. Maggie heard the sound, too, and recognised the reason. ‘He’s +bin at it agen,’ she remarked, with a contemptuous movement of her +mouth, as she went to open the door. Godfrey stumbled past her, with +an oath, into the little sitting-room, where his wife was waiting to +receive him. He, too, was uncertain what to say to her. He had resolved +to be led by circumstances. But he was sure of one thing. He must get +his way by fair means, rather than by foul. His object just now was +conciliation all round, until he had got clear out of England. So the +husband and wife met, at heart belligerents, but outwardly calm, in +order to effect their several purposes. + +‘Well, Childie!’ exclaimed Godfrey thickly, using the _soubriquet_ by +which he had nicknamed Iris in their courting days, but which he had +forgotten for years past, ‘I have come back, you see, safe and sound, +though I have been a deuce of a time away. However, I couldn’t help it. +Business detained me. Have you been very dull alone?’ + +‘Yes; it _has_ been rather dull, with no one but Maggie to speak to. +But you know I am used to that. Now you _have_ come, Godfrey, I hope +you are going to stay.’ + +‘Well, my dear, to tell you the truth, I’m _not_. The fact is, Childie, +we’re in a mess with regard to money matters, and it’s quite necessary +I should lie _perdu_ for a week or two. I met an old chum of mine +to-day in the city, the skipper of a Harfleur packet, and he’s promised +to smuggle me out of England to-morrow morning, and I can stay with +some friends of his abroad until Glendinning sets matters straight for +me.’ + +‘But how can Mr Glendinning set matters straight for you, Godfrey, +without paying your debts? and where is the money to come from?’ +demanded Iris, with that uncomfortable penetrating glance of hers. + +He turned his eyes away. They never had been able to stand hers. + +‘Oh! he’ll raise some money for me, and he’ll pacify the rest of the +creditors with promises. Glendinning’s a first-rate fellow at that +sort of thing. But he says it is quite necessary I should be out of +England, until the business is completely settled.’ + +‘I see,’ said his wife, ‘and you must go to-night and remain away. For +how long is it? Ten days?’ + +‘I said a fortnight, and it may be three weeks,’ replied Godfrey. ‘It +all depends upon how Glendinning can manage things for me. But one +thing is certain--_I must go_.’ + +‘And how are we to live during your absence?’ asked Iris quietly. + +‘_Live!_ Why, as you generally do, I suppose--on credit.’ + +‘That is quite impossible, Godfrey. I do not object to your going, +but you must leave me some money to keep the wolf from the door. The +tradesmen will not trust us with a single article. We have even to pay +for the milk as we take it in.’ + +‘That’s awkward,’ said Godfrey. ‘Well, give me some brandy and water, +and I’ll think it over.’ + +A sudden idea flashed into the girl’s mind. She _must_ know the truth +before he left her that night, or she might never know it at all. And +so, instead of restraining his over-indulgence as she was usually +called upon to do, she poured the tumbler half full of brandy before +she added the water, and placed it by her husband’s side. The end, in +her sight, justified the means. She was resolved to know the worst, and +there seemed no other way of forcing the knowledge from him. The strong +potion, added to what he had already taken, soon had its effect, but in +a different manner from what Iris had intended. + +Godfrey Harland’s character was of the lowest type. He was obstinate, +vicious, and cruel. But he was also hot blooded, and his hot nature +not being under any sort of control, made him a very ardent lover +when humoured, and equally dangerous when opposed. To thwart him +was to rouse the temper of a fiend. To give in to him was to deal +with a brute. He was fierce and unreasonable in his love--jealous and +revengeful in his hate--and selfish and cunning in every phase of life. +It was hard to say in which mood his wife had learned to dislike and +fear him most, but it was as much as her life was worth to oppose him +in either. Just now, as she saw the fumes of the brandy had recalled +some of his softer feelings for her, she resolved, if possible, to turn +the fact to her own advantage. + +‘That’s good,’ he said, as he drained the tumbler. ‘By Jove! Childie! +you’re looking very pretty to-night. Come here and sit on my knee.’ + +Iris shuddered at the request, but she complied with it. Nay, more, +this wolf in sheep’s clothing smiled upon him as she twined her fingers +softly in the dark curls of her husband’s hair. + +‘Won’t you give me some money, Godfrey?’ she murmured. ‘You know that +I _must_ have it. Just leave me enough to go on with for a month, and +I’ll be satisfied.’ + +‘Well! how much do you want, you jade?’ + +‘Twenty pounds!’ said Iris boldly. + +‘Twenty fiddlesticks! Why, I haven’t got twenty pence about me.’ + +‘Oh yes, you have!’ she said, coaxingly. ‘Just look, and you’ll find +it, Godfrey. You couldn’t go abroad without _some_ ready money, you +know.’ + +He fumbled about in his pockets then, and brought out the pile of notes +and gold which had been given him in exchange for Mr Vansittart’s +cheque. Iris saw them, and calculated their amount almost to a pound, +but she was too discreet to say so. Godfrey separated a single +bank-note from the rest, and held it up to her, saying,-- + +‘Now, what am I to have instead of it?’ + +‘What do you want, Godfrey?’ + +‘Twenty kisses at the very least,’ he replied, devouring her beauty +with his amorous eyes. ‘Now, put your pretty arms round my neck, +Childie, and give me the whole lot, or you sha’n’t have a sixpence.’ + +How the woman loathed her task. How she longed to tell this man, who +had once seemed as a god in her eyes, that she hated and despised +him for his cruelty and infidelity to her, and that she refused to +degrade herself further at his command. But the thought of her revenge +upheld her. ‘Revenge is sweet,’ says Byron, ‘especially to women.’ +The prospect of it was sweet to Iris Harland at that moment, and the +thought of destitution and starvation was sore, and so she stooped over +her half-drunken husband, and gave him what he had asked for, slowly +and deliberately, as if she were performing some painful expiation. + +‘That’s a good girl!’ exclaimed Harland, as her penance was concluded. +‘And now you shall have the money.’ + +She laid her hand eagerly upon four or five of the bank-notes as he +spoke--crumpled them up in her hand--and thrust the remainder into his +breast-pocket again. + +‘That is a great deal too much to carry about you, Godfrey, she said, +nervously. ‘You will be robbed if you don’t take care. And you will +want it all at Harfleur, you know.’ + +‘Oh, don’t you be afraid, my girl!’ he exclaimed, in his intoxicated, +boastful manner, as he buttoned his coat over it. ‘I’ll take good care +I’m not robbed. I’m not the sort of man to be taken in easily. You +ought to know that by this time.’ + +Then he rose, and began staggering about the room. + +‘I must go,’ he hiccupped, ‘because--because my friend--my friend--will +start without me--unless I’m quick. Good-bye, my dear. Don’t--don’t +worry about me. I’ll be all right. Good-bye, Maggie--give us a kiss.’ + +‘A kiss, you drunken brute!’ cried the handmaid, _sans cérémonie_. +‘You’d better try it on--that’s all. It’s something very different from +a kiss that I’d give you, if I had _my_ way.’ + +‘Hush! hush! Maggie,’ entreated Iris, as Harland stumbled through the +passage, and out at the front door. ‘Let him go, for heaven’s sake! We +shall have no peace till he is gone.’ + +She walked straight into the bedroom, and smoothed out the notes she +still held crumpled in her hand. There were five of them for five +pounds each--five-and-twenty pounds. She believed, and yet she was not +quite sure, if they would be sufficient for her purpose. But to-morrow +would decide. Before that time next day, she would know everything. The +idea made her feverishly impatient. + +‘Maggie,’ she cried, ‘lock up the door, and let us go to bed. I have so +much to do to-morrow. I want to get all the rest I can.’ + +But though she lay down, it was impossible to close her eyes, and +the next morning found Iris Harland tossing on her uneasy couch, +and longing for the hour to arrive when her cruel doubts should be +satisfied one way or the other. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VII. + +TWO WOMEN’S HEARTS. + + +The man who aspires to outwit a woman, gifted with the most ordinary +characteristics of her sex, should get up very early in the morning. +His brain may be larger and heavier than hers, but her instincts are +so keen, her wits so sharp, and she knows so well how to draw an +inference, that in a game of _finesse_ she has pieced the puzzle and +put it together before his slower comprehension has arrived at the +conviction that there is anything to find out at all. Godfrey Harland +prided himself the following day on the perfect manner in which he had +deceived his wife. She believed him to be on his way to Harfleur, and +by the time she expected to see him back again he would be on his way +to New Zealand and he chuckled inwardly to remember that he had not +left a single clue to his destination behind. It is true that he was +very much annoyed at discovering the loss of his money, but he did not +attribute it to any manœuvering on the part of his wife. He knew that +he had drank too freely the night before, and had played at cards after +he left Iris, when he scarcely knew if he had lost or won. But any way, +he had enough coin left for his purpose, and matters might have been +worse. And had it been all gone, he would rather have applied to Mr +Vansittart for a further loan, than have returned to look for it in the +house at Pimlico. He had cheated them there nicely, he thought, with +an idiotic, triumphant chuckle. Iris believed him to be crossing the +Channel, and it would never do to disturb her confidence by returning +home again. A second set of excuses would not be swallowed so easily as +the first. And whilst the poor fool congratulated himself thus, Iris +was taking her way, timidly, from the fear of meeting him, but still +determinately, to the offices of Messrs Stern & Stales. It was a novel +scene in which she found herself. The firm of Stern & Stales was one +of the largest in the metropolis. They owned a large number of ships, +besides chartering others, so that it was not an uncommon occurrence +for seventy vessels, all flying the house flag of the company, to leave +the docks for New Zealand and the Colonies in the course of a year. +Their office was in Fenchurch Street. At the head of a flight of broad +stone steps, with iron railings, was a large room in which a dozen +clerks sat scribbling away at their ledgers, or poring over bills of +lading, manifests, and invoices. On the walls were ranged half-models +of the different vessels in their employ, and nautical almanacks and +advertisements were hung in conspicuous positions. As Iris entered this +room on the morning in question, and glanced nervously around her, two +young men started from their desks simultaneously to ask her pleasure. +She was plainly dressed and closely veiled, but her graceful figure and +youthful appearance attracted immediate attention, and shipping clerks +have their feelings. + +‘What can I do for you, miss?’ inquired the elder of the two, shoving +the younger to one side. + +‘I believe you have some ships going to New Zealand shortly,’ stammered +Iris, who was too shy to mention the _Pandora_ all at once. ‘Can I see +a list of the passengers?’ + +‘Certainly, miss. Four of our vessels leave the docks next week. We +have the _Hindustan_, the _Trevelyan_, and the _Pandora_, which all +carry passengers. Do you require a berth?’ + +‘Yes!--I think so,’ replied Iris. ‘That is, I want to see the passenger +list before I decide.’ + +‘Very good, miss! Samuels, hand me down the passenger list of the +_Hindustan_, Captain Davis. We have four saloon berths vacant here you +see, miss, and three second. She will not carry any steerage. This +is a plan of the vessel,’ continued the clerk, unrolling a sheet of +parchment. ‘These after-cabin berths--’ + +But Iris pushed it gently to one side. + +‘I--I--think I would rather see the passenger list of the _Pandora_,’ +she said, with a blush that was visible even through her veil, and the +clerk, with a wink at his neighbour, passed the desired paper across +the counter. + +‘The _Pandora_ has her full complement of first-class passengers, so +I’m afraid you won’t find anything to suit you there, as there is +only a second cabin vacant, miss,’ continued the clerk. ‘She carries +steerage, but, of course, that is no use to you.’ + +‘I don’t know--I don’t know,’ replied Iris, almost hysterically, as she +perused the passenger list of the _Pandora_. + +In a moment her quick eye had caught the names of Mr and Mrs Vansittart +and Miss Vansittart, and then travelled to the bottom of the paper +where that of _Mr Godfrey Harland_ was visibly inscribed. She had +expected it, and yet was not prepared for it, and as it met her sight +and confirmed her fears, she gave vent to a slight moan, and leant +against the counter for support. + +‘Are you ill, miss? Can I fetch you a glass of water?’ asked the young +man in attendance anxiously. + +‘No, no! I am quite well. It is only the heat!’ exclaimed Iris, as she +took up the list again to make sure she had not been mistaken. ‘I--I +will take a berth, please, in _this_ vessel--the _Pandora_.’ + +‘There is only a second-class vacant, miss,’ returned the clerk. ‘We +could accommodate you better in the _Hindustan_, which is quite as fine +a ship.’ + +‘No, I prefer the _Pandora_, thank you. What is the price of the berth?’ + +‘Twenty-five guineas, if you please.’ + +Iris placed the money on the counter, with a sigh. She had imagined it +would be less. But if she sold the dress off her back she felt that she +_must_ go. + +‘Thank you,’ said the clerk, as he received the money. ‘What name shall +I book?’ + +Iris started. She had never thought about changing her name, but in a +moment she saw the expediency of it. She was so long, however, before +she answered the question, that the clerks looked at one another, and +stuck their tongues in their cheeks, to intimate that this was a ‘rum +go--’ + +‘Miss Douglas,’ said Iris at length, in a low voice. + +‘There is your ticket, miss,’ said the booking-clerk, when he had +filled in her name. ‘You see there is a plan of the cabin on the back. +Your berth will be No. 12, and the _Pandora_ will probably sail with +the early tide on Wednesday next, therefore it is advisable you should +be on board not later than six o’clock on Tuesday evening.’ + +‘Will--will--_all_ the passengers (the first-class passengers, I mean) +go on board on Tuesday evening, too?’ asked Iris hesitatingly. + +‘I expect so, miss. Most of them like to settle down before nightfall, +as there is little assistance to be got when the ship’s starting.’ + +‘And might I--do you think--go on board a little earlier than the +others?--to avoid the bustle and confusion, I mean.’ + +‘No; I wouldn’t do that, miss, if I were you,’ replied the clerk. ‘Not +that they’d refuse to let you go aboard an hour or so previously; but +they don’t care to see the passengers before six o’clock, when they’ll +be all ready to receive you. I’d go a little later, rather than sooner, +if I were you.’ + +‘Thank you,’ replied Iris gently, as she turned away. + +‘Queer street,--eh?’ said the clerk rapidly to his companions, before +he was called to book by another customer. + +Meanwhile Iris hurried homewards with her ticket in her hand. It +was all settled then. She had cast the die. She was to sail in the +_Pandora_ with Godfrey. But she felt very nervous now it was done, and +uncertain if she had acted rightly. She longed for a confidant to tell +her trouble and her intentions to, and she found it, naturally, in +Maggie, with whom she had promised to be explicit. + +‘Lor’! mistress!’ cried the latter, as she opened the door to her, +‘where on earth have you been? How dusty and hot you do look. I began +to think as you was lost.’ + +‘Come in here, Maggie, and I will tell you all,’ said Iris, as she +passed into the parlour. + +Maggie shut the door carefully, and followed her mistress, and stood +beside her chair, looking the very incarnation of dirt and good humour. + +‘Now, what is it, my pretty? Nothing new to vex you, I do hope.’ + +‘It is something very serious, Maggie. Mr Harland told me last night +that he was going to France till his affairs were settled, and he +should be back again in a few weeks. I find it is not true.’ + +‘Lor’! that’s no news. He’s always a-lying,’ said Maggie. + +‘He left a letter behind him, by which I discovered he was thinking of +going to New Zealand. I have been to the shipping office this morning, +and I saw his name down in the passengers’ list. He sails on the 24th. +He is going to desert us, Maggie.’ + +‘What!’ cried the servant; ‘is he a-going right across the sea, and +leave you here, without no money to buy bread or anythink?’ + +‘Indeed he is, Maggie. Isn’t it base of him?--isn’t it cruel? I +wouldn’t treat a dog that depended on me as he has treated me. +What crime have I been guilty of, to be punished in so inhuman a +fashion?--to be left to starve or to do worse! Oh, my God! it is too +hard, it is too bitterly hard!’ + +And Iris broke down, and sobbed with her face in her hands. When she +lifted her head again, Maggie was kneeling at her feet. + +‘Don’t you cry, dear mistress,’ she was saying, in her rough manner; +‘you shall never starve whilst I have two hands to work for you. Don’t +you cry. Oh! I’ve bin a bad gal. Sometimes I think I must tell you all, +but there--it wouldn’t make matters better, and it might make ’em +worse. For you lets me serve you now (don’t you, my pretty?), and then +you mightn’t. But don’t talk of starving, for while I live, you shall +never want for bread and meat.’ + +‘It was silly of me, Maggie, to say such a thing, for I can work as +well as you, though not perhaps in the same way, and I would never eat +your bread whilst I could make my own. Thank you, my dear girl, all the +same, and I shall never forget you have been a true, good friend to me. +But, Maggie, I have settled on another plan. I will _not_ be left here +behind in England. I am Mr Harland’s wife, and I have a right to be +where he is. So when I had made sure he was to sail in the _Pandora_, I +took a second-class berth in the same vessel, and I shall go out to New +Zealand with him.’ + +Maggie leapt to her feet with surprise. + +‘Lor’, mistress! you don’t never mean what you say?’ + +‘I do, Maggie. Why not? Mr Harland gave me some money last night to +keep us whilst he was away, and I have spent it on a ticket for the +_Pandora_. It cost a lot,’ continued Iris, with a sigh,--twenty-five +guineas, and I have only a few shillings left. But I couldn’t help it. +I _must_ go with him.’ + +‘And what will you do when you gets on board, mistress?’ + +‘Oh! I sha’n’t discover myself to him till we get to land, Maggie. He +is going first class with some rich friends, who have given him an +appointment out there, and I don’t want them to know about me. But when +we get to New Zealand, I shall tell Mr Harland he must either take me +with him, or make me an allowance to live on; and if he refuses, I +shall appeal to his employers to see me righted. Why should he make +money, and I derive no benefit from it? I have suffered enough, Heaven +knows! since I have married him, without being cast off, as if I were +some guilty creature not fit to be his wife. I will not stand it any +longer. I have sworn that I will not.’ + +Maggie had been listening to this tirade with wide open, glistening +eyes, and at its close she threw herself prostrate on the hearthrug. + +‘And you will go away from England to live across the sea and maybe +never come back again, and leave poor Maggie here all alone. Oh, +mistress I cannot bear it. It will kill me if I don’t go too!’ + +‘My poor Maggie!’ cried Iris, with genuine distress. ‘I never thought +of you. But what _can_ I do? I can only just pay for my own passage and +my fare to Liverpool. It leaves me nothing even to buy another dress.’ + +‘But what will become of you without me?’ wailed the woman. ‘Do you +know what that brute will do when he finds out you’ve tricked him? +He’ll half kill you, as he’s tried to often and often in this very +room; and you’d have been dead now, if it hadn’t been for me. I +_can’t_ let you go alone, mistress. You’ll never come back. He’ll find +some means of making away with you out there.’ + +‘Oh, Maggie! what can I do?’ exclaimed her mistress. ‘I should love to +take you with me--indeed, my troubles have been so many I never thought +what an additional one parting with you would prove, till you mentioned +it to me. But how can I raise the money, dear? I have only seven +shillings left.’ + +‘You shan’t go alone,’ said Maggie fiercely; ‘I won’t trust you with +him alone. I ain’t fit to be your protector, but I’m the only one +you’ve got, and it’s the only way I can make up to you for all the harm +I’ve done you.’ + +‘How strangely you talk, Maggie. What harm have you ever done me?’ + +‘Ah, don’t mind my chatter, dear; I’m half crazy with grief and fear, +and I don’t know what I’m saying. But you sha’n’t fall into that +devil’s clutches if I can save you. Don’t all this furniture belong to +you, mistress?’ + +‘Yes, Maggie, such as it is, it is ours--and we only have the rooms by +the week.’ + +‘Well, mistress, I have a few shillings saved out of my wages, and if +you’ll leave it all to me, I’ll manage it.’ + +‘But how, Maggie?’ demanded Iris. + +‘I’ll give Mrs Barton notice at once, and move you out into other +rooms on Saturday, and then I’ll get rid of the sticks and things, and +they’ll pull us through.’ + +‘Oh, Maggie, they will never fetch more than a few pounds at the +outside. There is hardly a sound piece of furniture amongst them.’ + +‘Yes! thanks to his tantrums. But there will be enough for our purpose. +Mistress, you _must_ give in to me in this, for if I steals the money I +shall sail in that ship with you. Oh, my dear, my dear! Don’t you know +as I’d lay down my worthless life to save you pain.’ + +And with that the two poor creatures fell into each other’s arms and +wept. They were as different to look at as light from darkness, but +they possessed one great virtue in common, a true and genuine woman’s +heart. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE ‘_PANDORA_.’ + + +The newly-appointed officers were on board the _Pandora_. Abel Coffin +was the name of the chief officer. He was a short, broad built man, +with a bullet head and square shoulders. Peeping out from beneath his +bushy brows were two small black eyes, which winked and blinked, and +were apparently never at rest, except when in the arms of Morpheus. +His nose was inclined to be celestial, broad and unshapely, and of +rather a rubicund tint that corresponded with the tips of his large +ears; but whether it arose from the free use of stimulants, or the +biting northerly winds of the Atlantic Ocean, it was difficult to say. +A strong set of teeth, discoloured by tobacco, were firmly set in his +jaw, and covered by a pair of thick lips. A profusion of coarse, wiry +hair encircled his face, to which the absence of a moustache gave a +dogged appearance. There was a ponderous look altogether about the man. +He was not corpulent, but his bones were large, and sinews took the +place of flesh. In point of fact, Abel Coffin was exceedingly powerful, +and capable of enduring great fatigue. He was a smart man, too; the +school in which he had been reared being a severe one, but it had +turned him out every inch a sailor. + +When quite a lad he had been apprenticed by his father to a Bostonian, +which carried timber between Liverpool and the States. In this old +tub--which boasted a jackass rig--which took two hands to steer her +in an ordinary seven-knot breeze, and whose windmill pump was always +required to be kept upon the move, Abel Coffin had gone in at the +hawse holes and out at the cabin windows. And doubtless he would have +remained in her for ever had she not been so battered about after +she had jumped and thrashed her way into a nasty cross sea, that, +after having been towed into the Mersey by a compassionate tug, it +was decided that she should be broken up as unsafe to make another +trip across the ‘duck pond.’ So he had come up to London, and during +his wanderings about the docks in search of an outward bounder, had +encountered the captain of the _Pandora_, and on producing his tin +case of mildewed certificates and discharges, had been duly installed +as mate. He was a rough, generous, and good-hearted fellow--a trifle +severe, but just and honest, and always to be found at his post when +duty required it. On board the old wooden barge he had been accustomed +to hear the orders bawled out, and usually accompanied by foul +oaths--his only companions had been his mate and boatswain--and his +food coarse and unpalatable. + +The vessel was badly manned; all her gear stiff and old-fashioned, and +she required a deal of handling. Her sails were covered with geordie +patches, and when stowed were huddled to the yards in a most ungainly +fashion. Red rust was prevalent from the want of paint, or rather +coal tar, and her decks were scratched and dented, and had not been +acquainted for years with the carpenter’s caulking irons and mallet. In +a stiff breeze she yawed and capered about like a tipsy woman, thumping +heavily into the seas, and sending banks of angry foam rushing from her +basin-shaped bows. She plunged and groaned, compelling the skipper to +watch her very closely, as she rushed from her course and then refused +to come to, till the wheel was hard down, and she had cracked and +strained her timbers and described the letter _S_ in her wake, and the +weary helmsman’s arms ached with the amount of labour she required. + +To step from such a vessel as this on to the deck of the _Pandora_ +was a new experience in Abel Coffin’s life, and he appreciated +it accordingly. The trim passenger ship, fitted up with all the +latest improvements and designs--well manned by strong able +seamen--and provisioned with a goodly supply of live stock and fresh +vegetables--was a rich feast for his eyes, and to be her chief +officer a stroke of good luck he had never contemplated. It was like +leaving two squalid furnished apartments to take up his quarters +in a first-class hotel, and though, as yet, not quite at home in +his new capacity, Abel Coffin worked with his accustomed zeal, and +rather astonished the easy-going seamen. It was the day before the +departure of the _Pandora_, and every one on board was active. The last +lighters were alongside with their casks and cases, and Jack Blythe +was superintending their stowage in the main hatchway. The steward +bustled about the decks, attended by his satellites, carrying squeaking +fowls and quacking ducks to their coops, which were lashed on top of +the house amidships. The black cook and the butchers unmercifully +dragged the unfortunate sheep and pigs to their pens, whilst able +seamen were busy serving the running gear, and coiling down the warps, +to be in readiness to heave out. Small carts and drays waited on the +wharf to unload their cargoes of vegetables, cabin stores, and ship’s +dry provisions, and porters, with trucks of passengers’ luggage, and +seamen’s chests and baggage, with shellbacks, runners, boarding-house +keepers, and gaily-dressed women, were all looking out for some one +or other, who was about to sail in the _Pandora_. Confusion reigned +supreme. The decks were hampered with coils of rope, tins of varnish, +sails that were to be bent and gear to be lashed or stowed away, and in +the midst of this Babel, Mr Coffin was here, there, and everywhere. +Now on the poop slacking away a barge’s stern rope--then on the +quarter-deck signing a receipt--anon on the topgallant forecastle, +heaving a pall with the capstan, or making up a jib ready to be sent +out on to the boom. Jack Blythe was not so active as his superior. +He was obliged to stow the last cases and barrels very carefully in +the lower decks, so as to leave a passage to the locker, in order +that forty tons of gunpowder might be taken aboard, and placed there +when the vessel reached the hulks. The third mate was a nice-looking +youngster, who had just passed his second officer’s examination. His +name was Richard Sparkes. He was a tall lad, with curly brown hair, an +apology for a moustache, and bright blue eyes. His duties were confined +to the passengers’ stores, the safety of the live stock, and the care +of the fresh water. + +As the clock struck twelve work was knocked off, and the youngest +officer being left in charge of the ship, the two elders stepped on to +the quay, and went to get their mid-day meal. + +Vernon Blythe walked to a small hotel, in the bar window of which +the landlord had placed a placard to the effect, that he had ‘Good +accommodation for officers and midshipmen.’ There he sat down to a +_table d’hôte_, and afterwards amused himself with _Lloyd’s Shipping +News_, whilst inhaling the fragrant bouquet of a well-coloured pipe, +and giving an occasional thought to Alice Leyton’s near arrival. + +But where Mr Coffin disappeared to, it would be difficult to say. He +was an entirely different man from his second. His habits, manners, +and associates were all rough and unpolished. He had been born in a +fishing village, and nurtured among whalers, deep-sea fishers, and +lime-juicers. He had never entered cultivated society, consequently he +was shy and reserved, and when on shore sought out such habitats as +sailors of his stamp usually frequent. He had looked with astonishment, +not unmixed with contempt, at Jack Blythe’s handsome and refined +features, close cropped hair, well kept hands, and neat attire. He had +already set him down as a fair-weather sailor, and a dandy, and doubted +his ability in a time of trouble. Before the voyage was over Abel +Coffin had acknowledged to himself and Vernon Blythe that he was wrong. + +In the afternoon the busy throng that waited on the quay, and the dock +loafers that hung about the shipping, gradually cleared away, and at +five o’clock the hatches were battened down, and Mr Coffin reported the +_Pandora_ ready for sea. By the time the dinner-bell was sounded, most +of the passengers had arrived to answer to its summons. + +Jack Blythe had received the Leytons at the head of the gangway. Mrs +Leyton, a fragile-looking woman, whose delicate health had been the +cause of her residing in England for some years past, came first, with +her youngest born, a heavy child of four years old, in her arms. + +‘Give baby to me, Mrs Leyton,’ cried Jack, eagerly, as she came toiling +along the gangway. ‘Why didn’t you let one of the sailors carry her? +She is much too heavy for you.’ + +‘She is so naughty,’ sighed the poor mother; ‘she will go to no one but +myself.’ + +‘Ah, you spoil her,’ said Jack, as he helped them both on deck. + +‘It’s more than she does me!’ exclaimed Alice’s merry voice behind them. + +‘Everybody spoils you, you monkey,’ replied her lover, as he turned to +greet her. + +‘Well, did you think we had altered our minds, and were never coming, +Jack? And how do you like me, now _I have_ come?’ inquired Alice, +consciously. + +‘You look charming, as you always do,’ he answered. + +Most men would have returned a more enthusiastic reply, for Alice was +looking her very best. Robed in a yachting costume of white serge, with +gilt anchor buttons, and a sailor’s hat bound with white ribbon, set +coquettishly upon her sunny curls, she _ran a muck_ of the heart of +every son of Neptune who saw her step upon the deck. + +‘Well, it’s something to get a compliment out of you, Jack. “All scraps +thankfully received.” But come along and show us our cabin, and help us +to get straight. I can’t think how we are all going to get into it.’ + +‘I wish I could obey your bidding, Alice, but it’s impossible,’ replied +Jack. ‘I can’t stir from here. I’m on duty.’ + +A cloud came over Alice’s fair face. + +‘I don’t believe it. You’re looking out for somebody else.’ + +‘You’ve hit it!’ he exclaimed, with a merry laugh. ‘I am waiting for +my other girl.’ And, at that moment, as if to confirm his joking +assertion, Mrs and Miss Vansittart appeared. + +‘Mr Sparkes,’ Jack had just time to call out, ‘take these ladies into +the saloon, and tell the stewardess to show them their cabin,’ and then +he turned away to attend to the new comers. Alice Leyton pouted visibly +at what she considered her lover’s neglect; but Mr Richard Sparkes was +so delightfully pleasant and gallant, that she soon forgot all about it. + +‘Allow me,’ said Vernon Blythe gracefully, as he extended his hand for +the convenience of Mrs Vansittart. + +‘Lor’! thank you, sir, I’m sure!’ exclaimed the panting, good-humoured +woman, as she clawed hold of his arm with her enormous fist. ‘Moving is +a worry, and no mistake. However, thank heaven! it’s for the last time. +When I’ve once got home, no one will tempt me back again. Where are +you, Grace? Don’t tumble into the water, whatever you do. It’s a real +risk of life to ask any one to cross such a narrow plank as that.’ + +‘Here I am, mamma--close behind you,’ replied Grace. + +‘And the peril is over, for this time at least,’ observed Jack, as he +helped her on to the deck. Grace smiled upon him very graciously. She +was struck with his bright, handsome face at first sight. If all the +officers of the _Pandora_ were like this one (she thought) the voyage +might not pass so tediously as she anticipated. Mr Vansittart followed +closely on the heels of his wife and daughter, and Godfrey Harland, +who had been staying at their house for the last few days, brought up +the rear. As the latter raised his head, and encountered the honest +eyes of the young sailor looking straight into his, although the glance +was only instigated by a natural curiosity, he turned his uneasily +away. These men had never met each other before. They were not even +aware of each other’s names, and yet they instinctively felt a mutual +dislike. Godfrey put Vernon down at once as a conceited, impertinent +puppy--above his condition in life--and likely to give trouble in case +of being roused. And Vernon mentally decided that Godfrey was shifty, +independable, and a man to be avoided. + +‘Nasty eyes,’ he said to himself afterwards; ‘I wouldn’t trust that +fellow with change for a sovereign. If there’s any play going on during +the voyage, I shall keep a sharp look out upon him.’ But at the moment +he was compelled to be all politeness. + +‘Vansittart--stern cabins 1 and 2,’ he said, as he glanced at their +tickets. ‘If you will take the ladies into the saloon, sir, you will +find the steward ready to show you the way. Mr Godfrey Harland, No. +14, your cabin is aft amongst the gentlemen;’ and with this Vernon +Blythe turned curtly away, and commenced to give orders concerning the +passengers’ baggage. + +Godfrey Harland perceived his manner towards him, and resolved to +resent it. ‘I’ll pay that puppy out for his impertinence before many +days are over,’ he thought, as he followed his employers to the saloon. +By seven o’clock the whole party were seated at dinner. At the head of +the table sat Dr Lennard, who was always in great request by all the +ladies on board. He had a very handsome woman placed upon his right, +to whom he was paying the most deferential attention; but he had soon +entered into friendly conversation with the Vansittarts and Godfrey +Harland, whose seats were all near him. At the other end, in the +captain’s chair, sat Mr Coffin, looking strangely out of place amongst +the pretty girls and well-dressed men by whom he was surrounded, and +almost surly in his nervousness, as he ladled out the soup and carved +the joints. Beside him was seated the third officer, who had contrived, +for this evening at least, to secure a seat next to Alice Leyton, +whose pretty face, merry laugh, and animated conversation kept all the +men round her in a state of excitement; and especially interested a +certain Captain Lovell, who could not take his eyes off her. Yes, Alice +could laugh, and flirt, and enjoy herself, although Vernon Blythe was +not by her side,--not even enjoying his dinner at the same time. On the +poop (or, as many sailors call it, the ‘knife-board’), he paced up and +down, keeping his watch till he should be relieved from duty, now and +then glancing at the weather-vane, as if expectant of a sudden shift of +wind. + +‘I say, what do you do that for?’ inquired a voice near him, in +drawling, languid tones. + +Jack looked round at the speaker, as if he considered the question +altogether too silly to answer. + +‘Is there anything up there?’ continued the new-comer, indicating the +weather-vane. + +‘More than there is down here by a good deal,’ replied Jack, referring +to the stranger’s brains. + +But Harold Greenwood deserves a chapter to himself. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IX. + +MR GREENWOOD. + + +He was one of those wonderful anomalies in coat and trousers, at which +we gaze curiously, as we speculate to which sex they belong. He had +light flaxen hair, perceptibly crimped with hot irons, pale blue eyes, +and small, dolly features. The suspicion of a whitey-brown moustache on +his upper lip was like the down on an apple-tart. His hands were fat, +and short, and white--almost dimpled--and laden with women’s rings. +He was dressed in a tight check suit, a brown felt hat, gaiters, and +patent-leather shoes. In his hand he carried a small Malacca cane, +which he usually swung backwards and forwards, while he stood with his +legs well apart; an eyeglass was stuck with so painful an effort into +his eye that it distorted his features; and he wore his hat a little to +one side, which was intended to give him a rakish appearance. A gold +chain of great length and thickness was stretched across his waistcoat. +At one end of it dangled his keys, at the other a button-hook. From his +breast-pocket peeped out a pink silk handkerchief, placed there for +ornament rather than use, and encircling his throat was a white collar, +so high and so well starched that he was frequently obliged to place +his fingers between the linen and the skin to prevent his throttling. + +Vernon Blythe looked down at this mannikin with supreme contempt, not +unmixed with amusement. + +‘I suppose you are an officer of the ship--eh?’ rejoined Mr Greenwood. + +‘I suppose I am,’ said Jack coolly. + +‘Well, when shall we sail--eh? Can you tell me that?’ + +‘By the first tide to-morrow morning.’ + +‘But when will the first tide be? I’m a passenger, you see, so I’ve a +right to know. Haven’t I--eh? My name is Greenwood--Harold Greenwood. I +have one of the deck cabins.’ + +‘Why don’t you go down to your dinner?’ asked Jack, ignoring his +queries. + +‘Oh, because I dined before I came on board. Didn’t know what I might +get here, don’t you know? Had dinner with a friend, and a game at +billiards. Oh, by the way, have you a billiard-table on board? Awfully +jolly game billiards, don’t you know?’ and placing his hand upon the +pipe rail, whilst he used his cane for a cue, Mr Greenwood commenced +pushing away at an imaginary ball. + +To this absurd question Jack Blythe again vouchsafed no answer. + +‘I say, do you like waltzing?--awfully nice waltzing,’ resumed the +youth, commencing to whistle, and dance round in a circle with his cane +for a partner. ‘I suppose we shall have a dance every evening? I hear +there are some devilish pretty girls on board, and it will be our duty +to pay them some attention. We shall miss the rides in the Row, and the +shooting awfully, don’t you know?’ he went on, pretending his cane was +a gun, and levelling it at the main-topsail block; ‘but we must make +the best of it, and a bit of flirtation ain’t such bad fun on a long +voyage, don’t you know? It passes the time, and it pleases the girls, +and so it does good all round, eh?’ + +‘I should think _you_ would be sure to do them a lot of good. There’s +no doubt at all about that,’ replied Jack Blythe gruffly, as he turned +on his heel. + +There could not have been a greater contrast than between these two +men. To see them side by side was to doubt the possibility of their +belonging to the same order of creation. Jack Blythe, strong, healthy, +and muscular, with arms and hands that had been developed by manual +labour, and a fresh skin, which had been bronzed by a tropical sun, +and washed and beaten by the salt sprays of the Atlantic--with manly +and practical ideas, and a wholesome horror of effeminacy and all +that pertains to a fop; and Harold Greenwood, with a milk-and-water +complexion and flabby muscles,--soft limbs, that stood on a par with +those of a woman, and a head crammed with superficial ideas, that +showed the narrowness of his nature and the absence of even an ordinary +amount of brain. + +‘Awfully jolly weather this, isn’t it?’ continued Harold Greenwood, who +was too dense to take a rebuff unless it was administered in the shape +of a kick. ‘I say, what time do they call a fella here in the morning? +I should like to be up to see the ship start. Do you think the steward +will remember to wake me?’ + +‘I don’t know,’ returned Vernon brusquely. ‘You had better ask him +yourself. And I wish the d----l you wouldn’t whisk your stick about in +that absurd manner. You will put out my eye in another minute.’ + +This last request, which was delivered in a very angry tone of voice, +startled ‘Miss Nancy’ altogether, and with a muttered apology, and a +half-frightened look at the second officer, Mr Greenwood hurried down +the accommodation ladder, thinking what very rude men sailors seemed to +be, whilst Jack continued to keep his watch, and to smile to himself +whenever the sound of Alice’s ringing laughter was wafted upwards +through the open skylights of the saloon. + +Meanwhile, in the second cabin some of the passengers had sat down +to tea, and were discussing in lubber-like terms the qualities and +accommodation of the vessel, whilst others were amusing themselves +by unpacking their chests and ranging the necessary articles for the +voyage in the places assigned to them. They were a large party, and +there was much fun and confusion amongst them, the dearth of space in +their sleeping cabins, and the difficulty of finding room for their +various belongings, seeming to provoke more laughter than vexation. +Will Farrell especially appeared to be enjoying himself. He was excited +at the idea of leaving England and commencing a new life in the bush, +and having the opportunity to shake off the suspicion which had been +wrongfully attached to him. He had already made fast friends with a man +called Bob Perry, and was sitting at the tea-table with him discussing +subjects of interest connected with New Zealand, with which Perry had +been for some years familiar. It was at this juncture that the second +officer, from his watch on the poop, saw a sailor run to the side +to help two more passengers over the gangway. They were both women. +The first one stumbled, and came head foremost upon deck, striking +the gallant seaman who waited to receive her a violent blow in the +chest, which he took with a roar of laughter, in which several of his +messmates joined. The mirth and confusion seemed to make the second +passenger timid, for as she stepped over the gangway she glanced in a +nervous manner from one end of the vessel to the other, and whispered +to her companion, who in her turn communicated her wishes in a very low +voice to the sailor. + +‘Second cabin, miss,’ he replied aloud; ‘why, certainly. I’ll show +you the way. Round this here corner, that’s it, and down them stairs. +Take care. Turn round, miss, and go down back’ards, or you’ll come a +cropper. Now you’re safe, and the cabin’s just afore you. No thanks, +miss--no thanks,’ and the sailor went upon his own business. + +Vernon, watching this little episode from the elevation of the poop, +could not help wondering for a moment who this second-class passenger +could be, who seemed so timid and shrinking, and unlike the company +in which she would find herself. She appeared to be a lady travelling +with her maid, but what gentlewoman who could afford to keep a servant +would go second class? The mystery, slight as it was, was sufficient +to puzzle him, and keep him thinking of the last arrivals until he was +relieved of his watch. Meanwhile Iris Harland and Maggie had found +their way into the second cabin, where all eyes greeted them with a +prolonged stare. Iris was terribly nervous--fearful in each face to +recognise that of her husband; and her companion was not much better. +However, there was no need for alarm, and after a minute or two, when +they saw they were in the midst of strangers, they recovered their +confidence. Maggie was the first to speak. + +‘Can any of you gentlemen show us the way to cabin number twelve?’ she +asked, as, laden with parcels and band-boxes, she pushed her way to the +front. + +Maggie was looking fresh and comely that evening. She wore her best +clothes, and she had ‘cleaned herself’ for the occasion. Her dark hair +and eyes formed a vivid contrast to her rosy cheeks; and her wide +mouth, with its strong white teeth, looked sweet and wholesome. Will +Farrell was the first man to answer her challenge. + +‘_I_ will!’ he exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. ‘I sleep in number +eleven. Here it is, you see--next to mine.’ + +‘Thank you kindly. ’Tisn’t for me; it’s for this lady here. And now, +how are we to get our boxes down?’ + +‘Where are they?’ demanded Farrell. + +‘On deck. There’s two of ’em. A black box, and a little blue one that’s +mine.’ + +‘If they’re not very large, I’ll bring them down for you.’ + +‘Oh! _you’d_ make nothing of them. I’d carry them myself, except for +those plaguey stairs.’ + +‘Maggie,’ remonstrated Iris, in a low voice, ‘we cannot trouble this +gentleman. Remember he is a stranger.’ + +‘Oh, no! he ain’t. Are you, sir? No one is strangers once they’re on +board ship together.’ + +‘Of course not,’ rejoined Farrell heartily, ‘and if it is the case, the +sooner we’re friends the better. But won’t you have a cup of tea first? +Shall I tell the steward to fetch you some? Your friend looks tired.’ + +‘She _is_ tired, poor dear!’ replied Maggie, who had been warned to +treat Iris as her equal during the voyage. + +‘I’ll fetch it whilst you are taking off your things,’ replied Farrell, +hastening away. + +‘Now, mistress, take off your hat and veil,’ whispered Maggie to Iris, +as he disappeared, ‘this place is stifling hot.’ + +‘Oh, Maggie! I feel as I should never dare to show my face in public.’ + +‘Oh, but that’s nonsense! Besides, there’s no fear. _He’ll_ be a deal +too grand to put his foot in the second cabin: you may take your oath +of that. And here comes back this good fellow with the tea.’ + +‘Really, sir, you’re very kind to us,’ said Maggie, as Farrell set two +cups of steaming tea before them, ‘but _I_ mustn’t drink any, you know. +_I_ ain’t a second classer. I’m only steerage, and I shouldn’t have +intruded myself here at all, except to see this lady safe to her cabin, +because she ain’t used to roughing it, as I am.’ + +‘There’s no harm in saying _that_,’ she continued, as a slight pinch +from Iris warned her not to go too far. + +‘You are travelling in the steerage!’ exclaimed Will Farrell; ‘I _am_ +sorry.’ + +‘Why so, sir? It’s good enough for me. I’m not a duchess.’ + +‘No! and I’m not a duke, and so I think we should have been good +company for each other on the voyage, Miss Maggie.’ + +‘Miss Greet, if you please, sir. I don’t hold to being called out of my +name.’ + +‘Miss Greet, then. However, the steerage is not far off, and so I shall +still hope we may see a good deal of each other.’ + +‘I don’t know about that, but if you’ll turn your attention to my +lady--I mean to my friend here--and help her instead of me, I should +be ever so much more obliged to you. I daresay I shall find plenty of +young men in the steerage--they ain’t a scarce commodity--but Mrs--I +mean Miss Douglas, don’t know a soul here, and you can be all the use +in the world to her.’ + +‘Hush! hush! Maggie,’ pleaded Iris. + +‘You just keep quiet, my dear, and let me say what I choose.’ + +‘I shall be delighted to be of use to both of you,’ replied Farrell, +who had not failed to observe that Iris was a very pretty woman; ‘and +as an earnest of my goodwill, I will go and bring down these boxes at +once.’ And off he ran. + +‘Now, ain’t that a good sort?’ cried Maggie admiringly. + +‘He seems so,’ replied Iris. ‘But, Maggie, I think I shall go to my +berth at once. I shall never feel safe until we are well out to sea.’ + +‘All right, my dear. But here comes that chap with the boxes. Let me +just go and see where he puts mine first, and then I’ll come back, if +they’ll let me, and help you get to bed. Will you promise me to sit +here quiet till I come?’ + +‘Yes,’ said Iris mechanically, as she took up a newspaper, and +commenced to read. + +Many eyes were turned towards her as she sat there, with her pale, +beautiful face half-shaded by the brim of her hat and the thick veil, +which was only partially withdrawn; and many conjectures were raised as +to why so young a creature was going out to the new country alone. + +Perhaps it was the little drama he had seen enacted on her arrival +which induced Vernon Blythe to pay a visit to the second cabin that +evening. Perhaps it was the fate which stalks us all, and pulls the +strings of our lives as if we were so many puppets, bound to caper +at its will. Any way, when his watch was relieved, he bent his steps +there, instead of going down to the saloon. As he entered, Iris +Harland was sitting where Maggie had left her, at the end of the long +table furthest removed from the door; and Vernon Blythe stood on the +threshold, and regarded her for some minutes before she was even aware +of his presence. He had not caught a single glimpse of the face of +the lady who had arrived so late, he had scarcely seen the outlines +of her figure, and yet he felt sure that _that_ was she sitting under +the swinging lamp, with her graceful form bent forward, her eyes cast +down upon the paper, and one slim white hand resting on the table. How +strangely her appearance startled and affected him. He had never, to +his knowledge, seen her before, and yet his heart almost stood still to +look at her. Who was she? Where were her friends? What was she doing +here alone, in an atmosphere so evidently uncongenial to her? Jack +Blythe had not been so many years at sea without gaining a thorough +knowledge of the different classes of passengers a vessel is accustomed +to carry. And _this_ passenger, he could tell from merely looking at +her, was out of her class and her own sphere altogether. Could there be +any error in the matter? She seemed very shy, and inexperienced. Was it +possible she had got into the wrong cabin by mistake? Jack determined +to find out, and with that view walked up to the further end of the +table. As Iris perceived that some one was approaching her, she drew +the thick veil she wore right over her features, and pretended still to +be reading through it, although it was impossible she could decipher a +word. Jack threw himself into a seat near her, and whistled a few bars +of music carelessly, just to show that he was completely at his ease. +Then after the pause of a minute, he addressed her:-- + +‘I beg your pardon! I hope that you are comfortable, and have +everything you require. Things are apt to be a little confused on +starting, but I am one of the officers of the ship, and if there is +anything I can do for you, you have but to ask me.’ + +He paused for a reply, but it was long in coming. Iris’s thick veil did +not prevent her hearing, and the sound of his young manly voice had +struck on her heart like a knell. She recognised it at once, and even +through her veil she recognised him. She remembered distinctly when +she had heard that voice last,--its earnest, passionate tones,--the +strangled agony in it on her refusal to listen,--the sob with which he +had turned to leave her for ever! She had often thought of that scene, +and of her boyish lover since then,--had often asked herself whether +she had not been a blind fool to turn from his suit to listen to that +of Godfrey Harland,--had even wondered if she should ever meet Vernon +Blythe again, and tell him she regretted the pain which she had given +him. And here he was--in the very same ship with herself, and speaking +to her in that unforgotten voice. At the first blush, it seemed to Iris +Harland as if everything were lost. Her own voice shook so in answering +him that it would have been hard for any one to recognise it. + +‘Thank you,’ she said, in the lowest possible tone, ‘but there is +nothing.’ + +‘Introductions are not supposed to be necessary aboard ship,’ continued +Jack, ‘so I hope you will not think me forward in asking your name.’ + +‘Miss Douglas.’ + +‘And mine is Vernon Blythe, at your service,’ he said, lifting his cap +and putting it on his head again. ‘Are you going out to Lyttleton?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘You have friends there, perhaps?’ + +‘No.’ + +This answer puzzled him. What on earth could so young a lady intend to +do in a strange country without friends? He hazarded another conjecture. + +‘You know the country then?--you have been there before?’ + +‘No, never!’ replied Miss Douglas, in the same agitated tones. + +After this, Jack felt that he must ask no more. She evidently did not +wish to be communicative, and further questioning would devolve into +impertinence. He was wondering if he dared speak to her again, when +Maggie Greet rushed back into the cabin, and up to her mistress’s side. + +‘Now, my dear,’ she cried, ‘I’m going to put you to bed.’ + +‘Yes, yes!’ whispered Iris convulsively, clinging to her, ‘take me away +at once--take me to bed.’ + +Maggie saw she was on the point of breaking down, and looked round for +the cause. Her eyes fell on Vernon Blythe, sheepishly watching them +both. + +‘What have _you_ been a-saying to her?’ she demanded curtly. + +‘Nothing--nothing, Maggie!’ sobbed Iris. + +‘I hope, indeed,’ said Vernon, ‘that I have not offended Miss Douglas +by my offers of assistance. They were made with the best intentions, I +can assure you.’ + +‘Yes, yes! I know--’ gasped Iris; ‘but I’m tired--and--and a little +faint, and I’d rather go to bed.’ + +‘She’s overdone--that’s where it is, sir,’ explained Maggie, as she +cuddled Iris’s head to her bosom, ‘and the sooner she’s asleep the +better. Come along, my pretty!’ and she half led, half dragged Iris +into No. 12. + +She went without even bidding Jack a formal good-night. He felt a +little mortified when he thought of it, but, after all, what was +Miss Douglas to him? He rose up, and went whistling out of the cabin +as she disappeared; but he thought more than once of the mysterious +second-class passenger before they met again. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER X. + +GOOD-BYE TO ENGLAND. + + +The sun shone brightly on the dark, turbid waters of the Indian Docks, +making the binnacles sparkle like burnished gold, under the influence +of his rays. The Blue Peter floated gaily at the fore royal masthead +of the _Pandora_, and all was in readiness to receive the pilot. The +decks were cleared up, and the hatches battened down. The anchors were +hanging in their tackles, the cables were overhauled over the windlass +and ranged along the deck, and innumerable lines and warps were coiled +down, all ready to be paid out into the boat. + +Punctual to time, a short, dark man in blue uniform stepped aboard, +and having exchanged salutations with the captain, took his place upon +the bridge and gave the order to ‘Slack away for’ard,’ and as the +shellbacks tramped around the capstan aft, the _Pandora_ moved slowly +away from the quay. + +Then, after a great deal of shouting--of paying out warps, and hauling +them in--of encroaching upon the kindness of the captains of other +vessels by asking them to ‘make fast’ and ‘let go,’ the _Pandora_ +reached the dockhead, where she was slewed round, and a tug caught hold +of her hawser. + +A small crowd of friends and relations were here gathered together, +anxious to have a last look at those dear ones who were going so far +away, perhaps never to return. Some were brave enough to step aboard, +and go down as far as Gravesend, where the vessel was to wait a couple +of hours. But others were detained by work or business in London, and +could not afford to indulge their inclination. All had time, however, +while the _Pandora_ slowly crawled through the narrow entrance, to +whisper their last farewells--to implore the travellers ‘to be sure to +write,’ and tell them all their news--to wish them a prosperous voyage, +and, above all, to give them a warm grip of the hand, or a parting kiss. + +Ah! these long uncertain partings are very Death in Life. They have all +the agony of Death about them, and none of its peace. They are the most +cruel trials this miserable world affords us! + +When the vessel was clear of the docks, and had glided into the +broad river, the helm was put to starboard, and her head pointed +eastward--then the hawser gradually ‘taughtened’ as the tug went ahead, +and many of the passengers, realising that they were really ‘off,’ +strained their eyes, brimming with tears, towards the shore, and with a +choking sensation in their throats, waved their handkerchiefs as a last +farewell to the friends they had left behind them. But their emotion +soon subsided as they watched the lively scene spread out upon all +sides. It is those who stay at home who feel parting most. The river +was alive with barges, which had taken advantage of the wind to stem +the tide. Large passenger steamers took their way carefully amongst the +smaller craft, and channel and river boats plied fussily backwards and +forwards, with groaning deckloads of gaily-dressed pleasure seekers. + +Large wooden ships lay moored to the buoys, discharging blue casks +of petroleum, and in their wake fruiters and colliers were similarly +employed. Trinity boats, with their decks crowded with red and white +buoys, had made fast under the shears, and innumerable tugs, and +ferryboats, and watermen were waiting for something to ‘turn up.’ + +At two o’clock Gravesend was reached, where dozens of vessels had come +to a standstill, and half-an-hour afterwards the _Pandora_ was brought +up and moored to a buoy close to the red powder-hulks, with her burgee +flying at the masthead. + +The powder having been brought alongside in lighters, laden with small +wooden tubs, a double line of men was ranged from the port to the +locker, and the kegs quickly passed along. + +Whilst the powder was being taken in, a boat pulled by four men +approached the vessel. In her stern were seated the coxswain, and +another man who was evidently a passenger. When she reached the +_Pandora’s_ side the gangway was lowered, and the mysterious stranger +who had chosen this late hour to arrive, ascended the ladder. + +He was a tall, dark man with curly hair, and a heavy moustache, which +joined a pair of mutton-chop whiskers. His face was much lined, and +there was a haggard look beneath his keen grey eyes. He wore a soft +felt slouch hat, a black morning coat, and loose trousers. His baggage +apparently consisted of a large portmanteau, which was carried up by +one of the sailors, and tumbled on to the deck. + +‘What name?’ inquired Mr Sparkes, who waited at the head of the gangway +to receive him. + +‘I wish to see the captain,’ was the stranger’s only answer. + +‘You will find him on the bridge,’ said Richard Sparkes, and without +another word the new-comer hastily mounted the companion, and +confronted the skipper. + +‘Captain Robarts?’ he inquired briefly. + +‘The same, sir,’ replied the captain. ‘What is your business?’ + +‘There is my card,’ returned the other, producing it. + +‘Oh, yes! of course,’ said Captain Robarts, as he looked at the card; +‘very pleased to see you, Mr Fowler, and if you will ask the steward, +he will show you your berth.’ + +During this short colloquy, the passengers assembled on the deck +eyed the new-comer curiously, and many were the speculations raised +concerning him. + +‘Who can he be, Captain Lovell?’ asked Alice Leyton, who had become +quite friendly with the gentleman in question. + +‘I should say he had come to take charge of the powder,’ replied +Lovell. ‘He is evidently going to remain, as he has brought his +luggage.’ + +‘Perhaps he is (what Jack calls) a supercargo,’ suggested Alice. + +‘No, Miss Leyton, they don’t have such things now-a-days, although the +highly-favoured individual whom you call “Jack” may have told you so.’ + +‘Jack is likely to know best, though, all the same, because he is +a sailor,’ cried Alice merrily. ‘But do you really think, Captain +Lovell,’ she continued, opening her blue eyes, ‘that there is any +danger from the gunpowder?’ + +‘Not unless the ship catches fire, and then we should be blown to +“smithereens.” I daresay if we had any one on board evilly disposed to +the rest of us, he could, with very little trouble, put an end to our +existence.’ + +‘But he would blow himself up at the same time,’ said Alice. + +‘True; but in _such company_,’ replied Lovell, looking ineffable things +at her, ‘a fellow might even feel glad to be blown up.’ + +‘Don’t let us talk of such horrible things, Captain Lovell, and when we +have not yet commenced the voyage. Do you see that lady talking to the +gentleman who is leaning against the rail? She is a Miss Vere. She is +an actress, and is going all through Australia and New Zealand.’ + +‘By George! Is that really Miss Vere?’ said Captain Lovell, putting up +his eyeglass. ‘I really didn’t recognise her off the stage. She ought +to be good company. She’s very clever.’ + +‘Don’t you think she is very handsome?’ + +‘Perhaps. But she’s not _my_ style,’ replied the captain, glancing at +Alice’s fair hair. + +‘Would you like to be introduced to her?’ continued the girl. ‘I made +her acquaintance last night, and found her most agreeable. Will you +come with me, and talk to her?’ + +‘Delighted to follow you anywhere,’ said Lovell gallantly, as he walked +after his lively companion. + +Vernon Blythe, who was close at hand, saw the little incident, and +only smiled at it. He was not the man to suspect any woman whom he +professed to love, without good cause. And when he was assured of her +infidelity to him, he would be silent on the subject. He might leave +her, but his pride would forbid him to complain because she preferred +another fellow to himself. But he did not doubt at that moment that +Alice loved him, and, believing so, he allowed her to do just as she +chose. + +‘Miss Vere,’ she exclaimed, as she came up to the lady in question, +‘may I introduce one of our fellow-passengers to you--Captain +Lovell--who is longing to make your acquaintance?’ + +Miss Vere bowed, and the two immediately engaged in conversation. + +Emily Vere was a high-class society actress, who had appeared that +season at a leading London theatre, and taken the town by storm. Now, +she was going out to make the tour of Australia, tempted thereto by +exceptionally high terms, and the promise of an efficient company to +support her on the other side. In appearance, she was more charming +perhaps than handsome, but her figure was perfect, and her manners +courteous and refined. She was one of those artists who give the lie +pointblank to those libellers who say that virtue does not exist upon +the stage, and who (if the truth were known) have not kept their +own lives nearly so clean as that of many an actress. Miss Vere’s +character had never been attacked, except by those who knew nothing +about it. She was essentially a lady, and one of rather reserved and +quiet habits than otherwise. She was dressed plainly, but in exquisite +taste. Her grey cashmere dress showed off each curve of her beautiful +figure, and seemed to cling lovingly about her full bosom and slender +waist. Her long plush mantle was of the same delicate tint, and a grey +straw hat, trimmed with seagulls’ wings, and long grey _chevrette_ +gloves, completed her costume. She smiled pleasantly as she recognised +her little acquaintance of the night before, but did not evince any +especial emotion on being introduced to Captain Lovell, which, for the +moment, rather staggered that hero. + +‘So proud to know you,’ he murmured, as the introduction was effected; +‘so charmed to meet one whom I, in common with all who have had the +great privilege of seeing her upon the stage, cannot fail to admire.’ + +‘How long did it take you to get that up?’ asked Miss Vere quietly. +‘Seriously, Captain Lovell, I hope I am going to be spared listening to +empty compliments for a while. I am so very _very_ tired of them, and I +want to make this voyage a time of rest for both mind and body.’ + +‘But I can assure you I had no intention to flatter,’ stammered Lovell. + +‘Then you cannot know what your intentions are, and consequently must +be a very dangerous acquaintance. He can’t get out of it any way, can +he, Miss Leyton?’ + +‘I think most people would find it loss of time to cross swords with +you, Miss Vere,’ said Alice. + +‘Indeed I am a very peaceable person by nature. But some things put one +on one’s metal; and you must understand, Captain Lovell, that the last +person I care to talk about, is myself.’ + +‘Which makes you so unlike other women, that the first person we all +want to talk about is _you_. Ah! Miss Vere, you must not be so hard +upon me. I have seen you play at the “Star” Theatre dozens of times, +and left my heart behind me on every occasion.’ + +‘Dear me! what a number of hearts you must possess. You are quite a +natural curiosity. I hope you did not part with your brains at the +same time.’ + +‘You think I have none to spare, I suppose?’ + +‘Not quite that, but we shall want all we can scrape together, to make +this long voyage pass pleasantly. Have you mapped out any plan of +employment for the next three months, Miss Leyton?’ + +Alice blushed most becomingly. + +‘I haven’t thought of it yet. I suppose when we shake down, we shall +have plenty of music and dancing, and--’ + +‘Flirtation,’ continued Miss Vere. + +‘Well, a little of that, too, I suppose.’ + +‘A great deal, I hope,’ amended the captain; ‘life would be worth very +little without it.’ + +‘Yes! when it’s legitimate, it’s very nice,’ said Miss Vere; ‘but, for +my part, I mean to flirt with my books. I have promised myself a long +course of study before we arrive at Lyttleton.’ + +‘Oh, look, Miss Vere,’ cried Alice, ‘they are slipping the warp! I +believe we are really going at last. Are we off, Jack?’ she asked +excitedly of Vernon Blythe, who passed them at that moment. + +He only gave her a nod and a smile in answer, but the action did not +pass unperceived by Captain Lovell. However, he made no comment on it +then. + +‘It’s about time we _were_ off,’ he grumbled; ‘they’ve been three hours +shipping those confounded kegs of gunpowder.’ + +‘That are to blow us all up,’ said Alice merrily. + +As the _Pandora_ moved statelily down the river, a cold wind began +to blow over the water, that drove the ladies to the shelter of the +saloon, and left the gentlemen in possession of the deck and the +smoking-room. + +Vernon Blythe had found time more than once that day, in the midst +of his active duties, to glance round the decks in search of Miss +Douglas, but he had seen her nowhere, which, as they were still in +fresh water, seemed rather strange to him. But perhaps she was very +unhappy at leaving home, and could not trust herself in public. Godfrey +Harland, on the other hand, had made himself generally conspicuous by +his attentions to Mrs and Miss Vansittart, and the more Jack saw of +him, the more he disliked him. His handsome face was knitted into a +frown even now, as in the pursuit of his duty he passed Harland leaning +over the bulwarks, and watching the lights of Gravesend gradually +receding from view, as the vessel was towed towards the bend. Could +Vernon Blythe have read the thoughts which were passing through +Harland’s mind at that moment, he would have pitied, as much as he +despised him. For no one is to be pitied more than the man who casts an +honest love on one side, in order to pursue, with unfettered hands, +the phantom Fortune. + +He was thinking then of Iris. He had gained his object. The prize +he had unlawfully striven for was in his hand. In a few more hours, +miles of water would stretch between him and his domestic cares and +troubles. Yet he was not elated with his good luck. His last thoughts, +as he saw his country fading from his sight, were given to his deserted +home and wife. What would Iris do when she found he did not return? +Would she inform the police, and would they trace him to the shipping +office? What a fool he was not to have sailed under another name! He +might have thought of some excuse to satisfy the simple Vansittarts, +and put himself for ever out of the clutches of his pursuers. But +it was too late to think of that now. Still he did not believe it +possible that Iris would betray him. She had always been an honest, +generous, stout-hearted little woman, and he had more faith in her +than in himself; but she was passionate and determined, and others +might advise her to take the law into her own hand. How could he +possibly prevent such a catastrophe? Bright thought! The sea pilot +who had come aboard at Gravesend would land at the Start. He would +send a carefully-composed letter to his wife by him, explaining that +on account of being unable to meet some heavy losses at the Newcastle +Meeting, he had been compelled to leave England, and finding Harfleur +was too near for him, was on his way to Spain, under an assumed name, +whence he intended to get across to the Brazils, where he had been +promised employment. This would put her off the idea (if she had any) +of applying to the police for his whereabouts, and he could wind up his +letter with a few vague promises of sending her money as soon as he +landed in Brazil. + +That would do capitally, and set his mind completely at rest upon the +matter. There was only one little flaw in the plan, and that was a +vision of the pale face of the girl he had deserted, and which would +rise before him, becoming plainer and plainer as the night fell. There +is good as well as evil in the lives of all of us, and this was a good +moment in the life of Godfrey Harland. There was a time when he had +loved his young wife--with a selfish and worthless affection, it is +true, but still the best his nature was capable of conceiving; and his +conscience raked up the remembrance of this affection, now, with his +own misdeeds. Again and again did the thought of Iris come into his +head, until he felt almost remorseful. He tried to drive the unwelcome +memory away. He left his position and paced the deck with rapid steps, +but his deserted wife seemed to walk beside him. He lit a cheroot and +nearly choked himself with its strong fumes; still some one seemed +to whisper in his ear that he was committing a crime,--that he was a +liar--a coward--everything that was base and cruel,--and that if Iris +died of starvation during his absence, or sold her honour in exchange +for bread, he would be worse--the murderer of both her body and her +soul! And then the same voice seemed to tell him, as if by inspiration, +that he would never return to England,--that some catastrophe would +befall the ship that carried him,--she would be blown up by the powder, +or lost at sea, and he was leaving his wife and his creditors behind +him--_for ever_. The thought made his cheeks grow ghastly pale. It +was a warning--a prophecy! Why should he not save himself from its +fulfilment? There was still time to do so. It was nearly dark; he could +just make out the green light at the end of Southend Pier. The tide was +low. Why not drop overboard and swim? The distance was not a mile, and +he was an excellent swimmer. + +But no. He would be seen and picked up, and treated on board as if he +were a lunatic. The Vansittarts would not know what to make of his +conduct, and he might lose all the influence he had gained over them. +The game was too risky. It would certainly not succeed. And if it did, +what would he go back to? Poverty, tears, coldness, and certain arrest. +Pshaw! what a fool he was. What had he been thinking of? His good angel +flew away, and a spirit of a very different type took its place, and +Godfrey Harland was himself again. The soft moment had passed, and it +left him harder than before. + +‘What have I to do with others?’ he thought, as he buttoned his coat +across his chest; ‘my business at present is to look after number +one. He wants enough looking after, poor devil, Heaven knows! I am on +the highroad to fortune. Let me direct all my energies to seeing I +keep there. And if things go as I wish them, why I’ll turn my back on +England for evermore, and all my dear friends there may whistle for +me.’ So having arrived at this comfortable decision, Harland crossed +the quarter-deck, and, after swallowing a stiff brandy-and-soda, joined +the other gentlemen at a game of poker. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XI. + +A DISCOVERY. + + +The _Pandora_ was a full-rigged, three-masted ship, built by the famous +firm of Oswald & Company, of Glasgow and Sunderland. Her registered +tonnage was 1500 tons. Her hull, lower masts, topmasts, and lower yards +were built completely of iron, and her standing rigging was composed +of the same material. She carried six sails on her fore and mizen +masts respectively, and seven on her main. She had six topsails, six +topgallantsails, and a main skipsail. She was a heavy ship to work, +as nearly all her running rigging was of chain, or wire, except the +hauling part, and the larger ropes, such as the topsail halliards that +were of coir, and brought forth many an expressive epithet from the +sailors, whose hands were often sore after a night in the doldrums. The +beautiful rake of her lofty masts, the delicate curve of her narrow +beam, her sharp, fish-like bows, and nicely-rounded stern, gave her a +stately appearance as she rode on the waters, and suggested exciting +races in heavy squalls, and a fast sea passage, with little pay to +receive. Yet she was not an exceedingly fast ship. She had made the run +in ninety days, and her log had told sixteen knots; but, all the same, +she was a clipper, and if she had had an enterprising captain, would +have held her own with most ships, and shown her heels to not a few. +But the commander of the _Pandora_ did not believe in ‘cracking-on,’ +and his vessel had never had a chance of showing her ability. As soon +as a squall appeared to windward, he clewed up his smaller sails, and +would not dream of bumping with crowded sail into a head sea if the +least sign of danger attended him. In this respect he was right, since +his first thought was ever for the safety of his passengers and crew. + +There is intense pleasure as well as excitement in sailing with a +jolly, straight-forward, fearless man, who knows exactly how much +sail his vessel can carry till the last minute, who drives through +the squalls, sending the seas dashing over his weather bulwarks, and +gushing through his lee scuppers, shivering his leeches when an extra +gust bursts upon him, glorying to watch the splendid behaviour of +his ship as she bends to his command. But Captain Robarts was a very +different sort of man from this. + +It had been the intention of the pilot who had taken over charge of the +_Pandora_ at Gravesend to have come to an anchor off Southend, but as +the breeze chopped round to the southward, and seemed likely to remain +for some time in that direction, the vessel continued her course. The +fore and aft sails were run up, and the topsails loosed, and before ten +o’clock the Nore Light was passed, and she was towed out into the open +sea. All that night the two vessels pursued their journey together, +and early the next morning brought up with a head-wind in the Downs. +Some of the passengers had already succumbed to the long, steady roll +of the _Pandora_, as she swayed from side to side, sometimes dipping +her martingale deep into the swells, and rising gracefully again +before making another plunge. The smell of the new paint and varnish, +the ‘swash’ of the water as it rushed against the sides of the ship, +the swinging of the trays and lamps that were suspended to a brass +rod, no less than the long sweeping rock of their new cradle, all +combined to produce a queer sensation in their throats, which gave +them a difficulty in swallowing, and a dizziness in their heads, which +prevented their walking about lest their unseaworthy legs should bring +them to the ground. But the captain of the _Pandora_ steadily paced the +weather side, heedless of the groans of his unfortunate passengers, +and thinking only of the wind that had compelled the pilot to drop the +anchor in that unlucky hour. Uneasily he moved to and fro, occasionally +giving vent to an unmusical grunt, as his eyes roved along the horizon, +and over the South Foreland and Walmer Castle. + +Captain Robarts was a man of stunted growth of much the same build as +his chief officer, but both broader and shorter. His figure approached +insignificance, and his features were coarse and forbidding. His +hands, horny from manual labour and hairy and freckled from exposure, +were generally carried well down in the pockets of his monkey-jacket, +from which he seldom extricated them. He was a good navigator and +a diligent officer, but he was not a smart sailor. Had his duties +required activity, he would have failed in fulfilling them, but as +his sole work was to prick out the chart and give his orders, little +fault could be found with him on that score. In manner he was voted +on all sides to be a bear. He never addressed his passengers except +when absolutely obliged to do so, confining his conversation to the +officers of the vessel; and if any lady or gentleman ventured to ask +him a question on the most ordinary subject, his answer was generally +conveyed by a low grunt, as he turned away to the sacred precincts of +the bridge, where none but those on business were allowed to follow him. + +He professed to be a very religious man, and was in the habit of +sending the steward round with a bundle of tracts for distribution, in +the hopes thereby of counteracting the evil influence of flirtation +and yellow-backed novels. He objected strongly to the use of tobacco, +and, in fact, to every sort of indulgence in which he took no pleasure +himself. But he was very partial to his glass of grog, and a cask of +choice pine-apple rum was kept in the spirit-room expressly for his +use. Every evening before he turned in, the steward brought the captain +a glass of his favourite mixture, and during stiff gales and wintry +nights he often drank a little more than was good for him, as was +evidenced by a glowing blush at the end of his nose. His orders were +given in an abrupt, gruff voice--indeed he was at all times a man of +few words, and often directed the helmsman by the action of his hands; +and at the dinner-table he sat like a dummy in his chair of office, +leaving the steward to look after the wants of the passengers. That +afternoon Captain Robarts continued his silent constitutional until +the dinner-bell rang, and then dived below to take the edge off his +appetite; and while the saloon dinner was going on, Vernon Blythe +took his station on the look-out. He had not been there long before a +dilapidated figure staggered, with uncertain footsteps, to the spare +hencoops, which were lashed on either side, and mournfully sat down. +It was the shade of Harold Greenwood, but what a contrast to his +_debonnair_ appearance of the morning. His face was ashen pale, and +the corners of his mouth drawn down. There was a melancholy look about +his eyes, and his crimped hair, now straight as a Skye terrier’s, hung +down upon his forehead. He wore his hat upon the back of his head, and +he had left his Malacca cane below. One end of his watch-chain, with +the button-hook attached to it, dangled in front of him, in place of +his eyeglass, which had been smashed when the treacherous ship gave +a heavy roll, and threw him against the bulkhead, and the pink silk +handkerchief was fast losing its festive appearance under its frequent +calls to duty to wipe its owner’s mouth. A smile crossed Jack’s face +as he caught sight of the unhappy youth, and approaching him, he said +kindly,-- + +‘If you don’t feel well, Mr Greenwood, you had better go to the lee +side of the vessel. You mustn’t stay here.’ + +‘Oh! I’m quite well, thank you. I’m used to this sort of thing, don’t +you know?’ replied Greenwood quickly. ‘But it’s doosid hot in the +saloon, and I feel a little queer, don’t you know? It’s that new paint, +and--’ + +‘I quite understand,’ said Blythe; ‘but you’ll soon get used to it.’ + +‘Oh! I _am_ used to it--have been all my life--you know. But, I say, do +you think she will roll any more than she’s doing at present? For it’s +really very uncomfortable. I suppose the captain did not expect to have +had such bad weather when he started.’ + +‘_Bad weather!_’ exclaimed Jack, ‘why, my dear fellow, you don’t +know what you’re talking about. This is _splendid_ weather. A fresh +head-wind and a heavy ground swell! We couldn’t have had it better if +it had been made to order.’ + +‘Oh!--I see,’ groaned Mr Greenwood. ‘Well, if this is _good_ weather, +I hope it won’t get any better, that’s all. I think I will take your +advice, Mr Blythe, and go over to the lee side, if you will tell me +where it is.’ + +‘Why, it’s the _other_ side, of course,’ replied Jack good-humouredly; +‘and I’d put my head a little over the taffrail, if I were you, and +take a good look at the fishes. I am sure you will feel the better for +it afterwards.’ + +‘Do you really?’ said Greenwood, with open eyes. ‘Well, you ought to +know, so I will try it. Not that I feel ill, Mr Blythe, for I enjoy +this sort of thing uncommonly, only I think the other side looks more +comfortable than this. There’s so much wind here, it makes me quite +giddy.’ And so, by dint of clutching the pinrail of the mizen-mast, and +making a dart for the rigging, the unhappy youth managed to reach the +opposite coop in safety. + +When Jack turned his head again to look at him, he saw that he had +taken his advice, and hung his head well over the taffrail, where he +appeared to be looking for something in the water, with his mouth wide +open, and his eyes full of tears. Jack laughed till the tears came into +his own, to see the little boastful dandy thus hung out to dry. + +In the second cabin and steerage the passengers were suffering the +same tortures as their wealthier fellow-voyagers in the saloon. They +had not to contend against the horrors of new paint and varnish, for +their bulkheads were built of plain white wood, but their proximity to +the cargo in the lower hold and the ’tween-decks rendered the creaking +and groaning of the heavy merchandise very audible, and rendered it +difficult for them to forget their troubles in sleep. Will Farrell, +who was not subject to _mal-de-mer_, was untiring in his endeavours to +help those who had succumbed to it. He did not forget Maggie in the +steerage, and between ‘chaffing’ and feeding, he soon managed to bring +her round again. The poor girl had been very ill at first, but she was +a stout-hearted little woman, and when she heard that her mistress was +much worse than herself, and steadily refused to take either medicine +or food, she made a strenuous effort to go to her assistance, and she +succeeded. She found Iris nearly prostrate, and broken down in mind +and body. She was exhausted by sickness, but had resolutely refused to +see the doctor, lest by some means he might find out who she was. The +fact is, the poor child was quite ready to lie down and die. She would +have been thankful not to get up again. There seemed nothing left for +her to live for. The excitement of getting ready to follow her husband +was over. Nothing remained now but a constant dread of detection, and +when the terrible sea-sickness came to try her physical powers, all +attempt at resistance seemed to abandon her, and she sunk under it. +Maggie found her with a stone-cold body, and a pulse at its lowest +ebb. The passengers were all alarmed about her, but she had steadily +declined their proffered kindnesses, and, above all, she would not let +Dr Lennard be informed of her condition. But when Maggie saw her, she +asked no one’s leave, but went to find him at once. As she emerged +from the cabin, with the tears running down her cheeks, she met Vernon +Blythe. + +‘Why! what’s the matter?’ he inquired, with a true sailor’s ready +interest in every woman, high or low. + +‘Oh, please, sir! can you tell me where to find the doctor? My poor, +dear lady is _so_ ill.’ + +‘_Your lady!_ Let me see. Are you not the person who came on board with +Miss Douglas?’ + +‘Yes, sir, and she is so bad with the sickness. She’s as cold as ice, +and can hardly move a limb. And I’ve been sick myself till now, and +ain’t half right yet, or I’d have fetched the doctor to her before. But +he must come now, sir, as quick as he can, for the poor dear is just as +bad as she can be.’ + +‘I will fetch him for her at once!’ exclaimed Jack, who had not +forgotten his strange interest in the mysterious second-class passenger. + +In another minute he had unearthed Dr Lennard from the smoking-room, +where he was playing chess with the third officer, and carried him +off to his patient. As they entered the cabin together, Maggie had +disappeared to take up her watch beside Iris’s berth. + +‘Which is Miss Douglas’s berth?’ inquired the doctor, addressing the +assembled company. + +‘Number twelve,’ replied Farrell eagerly. + +‘This is it, doctor,’ said Jack, as he unlatched the door to let the +medical officer pass in. + +Iris’s berth was a lower one, facing the entrance. As Jack opened the +door, he saw her plainly, lying back upon her pillows, with closed +eyes, and loosened hair; and as he saw her, he started violently, and +muttered something very like an oath beneath his breath. + +‘Hullo, Jack! what’s up?’ exclaimed Dr Lennard jestingly; ‘seen a +ghost, eh?’ + +‘Nothing, doctor, nothing,’ he answered, in a muffled voice; ‘that +is the lady,’ and closing the cabin door hastily upon him, he leant +against it for a moment, to recover himself. + +At first his heart called out that he _must_ be mistaken--that it was +only a chance likeness he had seen lying on the pillows within that +door. But his reason told him he was _not_, and that there could not +be two faces in this world like the one that had been enshrined in +his heart ever since he first beheld it. This then was the reason of +his strange interest in Miss Douglas. His eyes had been too dull to +recognise her, but his instincts had been stronger than his sight. + +Dr Lennard might well ask him if he had seen a ghost. How the good +doctor would ‘chaff’ him if he told him he had indeed seen the ghost of +his early love--the memory of his life, sweet Iris Hetherley. + +As Vernon Blythe left the cabin to return to his duty, he staggered +like a drunken man. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XII. + +AT SEA. + + +Before noon on the following day, the lighthouse at Dungeness was +sighted, and the _Pandora_ parted company with her towboat. It was +a joyous morning. A southerly wind blew its warm breath across the +water, and filled the sails of the vessel. It was just the wind that +suited her, for she could show off her powers far better on a bowline +than when running, and she ploughed along with the freshening breeze +at thirteen knots an hour. Her sharp stem cut through the swells, and +made the seething foam rush angrily from her, leaving a long white +streak of creamy froth in her wake. Little spits flew over the weather +topgallantsail, as the boisterous waves dashed against her, and the +sea gushed through the lee scupper-holes, oozed in at the ports, and +ran in torrents aft with the backward roll. Her large, white canvas +sails bulged out with the wind, and made her sheets crack again, as +they hugged the belaying bits; and the leeches, stretched taut with the +bowlines, trembled convulsively when she came up to windward. + +The _Pandora_ was behaving beautifully, and her passengers--who had +mostly pulled round after their severe shaking in the Downs--all +thought the movement delightful. And the scene by which they were +surrounded added to their pleasurable sensations. The gulls sailed in +half-circles about the vessel’s wake, now and then uttering hoarse +cries as they dived after and engaged in a battle-royal for some +tempting morsel tossed overboard by the black cook. The porpoises +skimmed the waves in frolicsome gambols--often leaping straight out +of the water, and falling back upon their sides with a loud splash, +scaring the smaller fry, that fled in all directions, as they chased +each other over the crested swells. The numerous vessels that passed, +too, showed themselves off to advantage under such an inviting gale. +The heavily-rigged East Indiaman, with her Lascar crew, homeward bound, +after a twelve months’ voyage, followed by two small tugs, in the hope +that the breeze would drop, and she would be obliged to have recourse +to their assistance; the neat little Madeira fruiter, with a cargo +of oranges and bananas, making all haste to London to get rid of her +perishable freight; the Newcastle steamer, that enveloped every craft +that came near her in clouds of smoke, and poured gallons of water from +her black sides; the huge ocean liner, that looked like an enormous +floating hotel, and sent forth ominous blasts as she altered her course +to keep clear of the sailing vessels; the West Indian barque, that was +chartered to bring home rum and sugar; and the humble collier, with +her dusty cargo and begrimed hull and sails; these, and many others, +passed the _Pandora_ on her outward voyage, and kept her passengers +interested and amused. Mr Vansittart, with a storm-cap strapped under +his chin, and a pair of field-glasses slung in a case behind his back, +was standing under the shelter of the wheel-house, talking to his +daughter Grace, who looked rather paler than when she stepped aboard, +but declared she felt quite well as long as she remained in the fresh +air. Godfrey Harland was in close attendance on her, and she seemed +pleased by his proximity. He had quite got over the ridiculous fit +of self-reproach which had attacked him off Southend, and had nerved +himself to go through everything that might lie before him--even to +marriage with Grace Vansittart, if she and her parents consented +to it. Mrs Leyton, too, was on deck for the first time, and sat on +the skylight, enveloped in a warm shawl, whilst her little daughter +Winifred (who was still known as ‘Baby’), a pretty child of about +three years old, ran about the deck; and Alice carried on a laughing +flirtation with Captain Lovell, which she refused to relinquish for +all the warning looks she received from her mother. The fact is, Alice +was piqued. Her lawful sweetheart, Jack Blythe, may have been too busy +to stay by her side, and attend to her many little wants, and she was +a sensible girl, and did not expect him to give up his duty for his +pleasure; still, he might have spoken a word or two to her occasionally +in passing, or thrown a look with a world of meaning in it. But though +he had smiled kindly at her when they met in the morning, he had taken +no notice of her since, and Alice could not help seeing that he was +pre-occupied and serious. What could be the matter with him? Surely +he was never going to be so stupid as to feel jealous of the little +attentions Captain Lovell showed her, and which he himself had no time +to pay! If _that_ was to be the order of march at this early stage of +the proceedings, what would Jack do before the voyage was over. The +very thought made Alice’s only half-subdued heart rebellious, and her +smiles became sweeter, and her laughter more hilarious, than there was +any need they should be. + +And, meantime, jealousy of her and her doings was the very last thought +of Vernon Blythe. His mind was entirely set upon Iris Harland, and he +had to drive her image, and the wild conjectures which the sight of +her had eliminated, by force away, in order to fit himself for his +duty. Where was her husband? What was she doing on board the _Pandora_? +Why had she embarked under a false name? And had she recognised him +when he recognised her? All these questions kept rushing through his +brain, and driving him half crazy because he could not solve them. He +had tried to pump Dr Lennard, but had derived little satisfaction from +the attempt. The doctor could not guess the reason for his anxiety, +and would not have sympathised with it, probably, if he had. He set +down the young man’s queries to curiosity, and answered them in a very +common-place manner. Miss Douglas was better, and would be all right in +a day or two. Did he not consider her an unusually pretty woman? Well, +she had good features, certainly, but was too thin and pale for beauty, +and she was very silent. The doctor didn’t know if she was stupid or +sulky, but she did not appear very grateful for the attentions shown +her; and the girl from the steerage who was nursing her, and seemed to +be her friend, was twice as interesting a person, in his eyes. + +And so Vernon Blythe turned away with the secret of his burning heart +untold, and waited feverishly for the moment when he should see Iris +again and speak to her, although he could scarcely trust himself to +think of it. He had borne the sting of his disappointment for five long +years, and he believed that he was cured. He had never expected to meet +Iris Hetherley (the only name by which he had known her) again. He had +thought he should, in due time, marry Alice Leyton, and banish the last +memories of his first love for ever from his heart. Yet here she was, +and the very knowledge that she _was_ here had the power to make the +young sailor’s blood course like molten lava through his veins, and set +his head spinning like a top. He knew that, in a few days at latest, he +must see her again; but each hour seemed to mark a day as it dragged +its weary length along. + +Jack longed for a storm to arise,--for the vessel to be in +danger,--for anything to occur that should take him out of himself, and +make the time go faster. But the clerk of the weather would not listen +to his prayer. The sky continued to be gloriously blue; the emerald +waters sparkled in the radiance of the sun; the white cliffs of dear +Albion, with the green fields beyond them, receded further and further +away; the vessels of every nation, which the English Channel bears upon +her bosom, became scattered and far between, and the _Pandora_ stood +out to the open sea. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIII. + +COURTSHIP. + + +With a light wind and a flowing sheet the _Pandora_, now more than a +fortnight out, moved slowly through the water. Astern was the island of +Madeira, standing like a huge rock in the sea, and various crafts on +the deep blue waters looked, in the distance, like children’s toys. Not +a cloud was to be seen. The sky was as blue as the sea--the air mild +and pure. + +The sun had become so oppressive that an awning was rigged over the +after part of the vessel, and the passengers, having quite recovered +their sea legs, were reclining on chairs and couches under its +welcome shade. The occupiers of the second cabin were resting on the +quarter-deck, sheltered by the cutters, which were kept in the chocks +on the after-skids. Everything seemed peaceful and quiet aboard. A +merry laugh from the girls, or the plaintive bleating of the sheep +being the only sounds that broke the silence. + +It was Vernon Blythe’s watch on deck, and his men were employed +aloft setting up the topmast and topgallant rigging. There was but +little work for the officer to do. Occasionally his services were +required to serve out marline, amberline, and different stores, but +that did not occur often, and left him far too much time for thought +and speculation. Why did not Iris Hetherley appear amongst the other +passengers on the quarter-deck? His wistful eye kept roving there every +second minute in the hope of seeing her, but she did not come. What +could be the reason of her enforced seclusion? Vernon had attempted to +see her twenty times in the last fortnight without success. For a week +she had kept her berth, and when she left it, she seemed never to be in +the cabin when the second officer entered it. Maggie had answered his +numerous inquiries respecting her mistress more than once, and always +blushed and stammered so much over the operation, that Jack suspected +she had been cautioned not to enlighten him. Which indeed was the case; +for Iris had confided the fact of her former acquaintanceship with him +to her humble friend, and had prayed the girl to warn her whenever +he entered the cabin, so that she might escape to the shelter of her +berth. Maggie had remonstrated with her ‘_pretty_’ on the absurdity of +the proceeding. + +‘You _must_ meet the gentleman sooner or later, you know, mistress, so +what’s the good of dodging him. And if he was a friend of yours, why +_should_ you dodge him? You say he don’t know that villain up in the +saloon, and if he did, he wouldn’t betray you if you asked him not. Is +it likely? And maybe he’ll help you, and be good company on this long +voyage, and stand your friend on the other side, where you’ll want one, +poor lamb, God knows! Now, mistress dear, do be wise, and meet the +gentleman with a handshake next time he comes in, and then you’ll feel +as you have _one_ person at least aboard, who takes an interest in you.’ + +But Iris would not accept the advice offered her. Perhaps she was not +quite so certain as Maggie seemed to be of Jack’s claim to be trusted. +Perhaps she dreaded the questions he might put to her--or certain +tender memories connected with her former rejection of his suit, +combined with the miserable disappointment of her married life, warned +her that a renewal of friendship between them might prove a dangerous +solace under her present circumstances. Any way, she studiously +avoided him, even to the length of refusing to take any fresh air on +deck; and Vernon Blythe’s heart grew heavier and heavier under the +daily disappointment of meeting her. It was not, however, for want of +distraction that he brooded over the memory of his first love, for all +the girls aboard ship showed their willingness to talk to, and even +flirt with him. + +As he walked to one end of the poop now, to take a look out, Grace +Vansittart tried to detain him. + +‘Mr Blythe,’ she said, ‘can you tell me what that vessel that is so +near the land is doing?’ + +Vernon fetched the glass from the pilot-house, and leaning it against +the for’ard mizen shroud, gazed for some moments at the vessel. + +‘She is flat aback,’ he answered, as he finished his survey, ‘and I +think will have some difficulty in getting away.’ + +‘But why? She has the same wind that we have.’ + +‘Not exactly. She is close under the land, where it is calm.’ + +‘How nice it must be,’ remarked Grace admiringly, ‘to know everything.’ + +She was looking very attractive that day, dressed in a costume of +blue serge, that toned down the fulness of her outlines, with a broad +leather belt encircling her waist, and a wide straw hat, trimmed with +corn and poppies, sheltering her fresh young face. Had Vernon Blythe +been heart whole, he might have fallen a victim to the fascinations +of this handsome girl, who was looking at him very encouragingly out +of her large brown eyes, and doing her level best to engage him in a +conversation. But Grace Vansittart’s charms would have held no danger +for him, even if Iris Harland’s proximity were not rendering him +fireproof. He was engaged--not formally, indeed, but still by mutual +consent--to Alice Leyton, and no temptation would have induced him +to abrogate his rights. Not that Alice had made many demands upon his +attentions lately; on the contrary, she rather ignored the fact of the +tie between them, and generally kept away at the other side of the deck +when they occupied it at the same time. But Jack was not sufficiently +in love with her to resent the action. On the contrary, he thought it +displayed a becoming reticence on her part, which he had often wished +she possessed before. And so he contented himself with shaking her hand +when they met in public, and kept all his loverlike confidences for +the very rare occasions when they encountered each other alone. Alice +had no reason, however, to be ashamed of her _fiancé_, who was one of +the smartest young officers in the merchant service, and a pattern +to the majority of his mates, who seem to imagine that neatness and +cleanliness form no part of their duty whilst on shore. + +He was always well and smartly dressed. His uniform showed traces +of careful handling, and his peaked cap, with its gaily-embroidered +badge, evidently received due attention from the clothes-brush. His +boots shone with blacking, and his golden-flecked head was as perfectly +groomed as if he were about to stroll through Hyde Park. Though, truth +to say, you might have covered Jack Blythe with mud, and ducked him in +a horse-pond, and he would still have emerged looking like a gentleman. +It was this trait, as much as his beauty, that attracted the other sex +to him. Women detest a slovenly man. Miss Vansittart’s evident liking +for the young officer was viewed with jealous alarm by Godfrey Harland. +He had not forgotten his causeless grudge against Blythe, and he was +determined he should not take the wind out of his sails now. + +‘What do you want to talk to that fellow for, Miss Vansittart?’ he +asked, as Jack was called away to the main hatch. + +‘Why should I not?’ inquired Grace. ‘Do you dislike him, Mr Harland? I +think he is such a very pleasant young man.’ + +‘_Pleasant young man!_’ sneered Harland. ‘Do you suppose, Miss +Vansittart, for an instant that any of these fellows are gentlemen? +Why, they have all risen from common seamen.’ + +‘I am _sure_ Mr Blythe is a gentleman,’ retorted Grace warmly. + +‘Then I suppose you call Mr Coffin and the old skipper _gentlemen_? +They have quite as much right to the title as young Blythe.’ + +‘I don’t agree with you,’ said Grace; ‘I know a gentleman when I speak +to him, Mr Harland; and so long as my parents raise no objection to it, +I shall continue my acquaintanceship with Mr Blythe.’ + +This answer nettled and alarmed Godfrey Harland. He had been on such +friendly terms with the heiress hitherto, that he was jealous of the +influence exercised over her by the second officer. Had he dared, he +would have said anything to lower his rival in her estimation, but he +was sharp enough to see that such a course would only injure his own +cause. So he turned his attention to patching up the slight breach +between them instead. + +‘My dear Miss Vansittart,’ he commenced, ‘you must forgive me if I have +spoken too strongly on the subject. You know how miserable it makes me +to hear you speak in praise of any other fellow, and will excuse my +transient ill-humour for the sake of its cause.’ + +He had never said so much to her before, and he waited rather nervously +for her reply. He had not intended to give her an intimation even of +his wishes until he was safe in New Zealand, and had had an opportunity +of sounding her father’s mind upon the subject. But if other people +were going to intrude their officious attentions upon her, it would be +as well perhaps to let her have some inkling of his preference. And +Grace Vansittart did not resent it. + +With the quickness with which some young ladies recognise a would-be +suitor, she had already seen (or thought she saw) that Harland had +a fancy for her, and was not displeased with the idea. Her superior +education had had the usual effect. It had opened her eyes to the +inferiority of her parents, and infused a desire to rise above them. +Beyond all things, she was determined to marry a ‘_swell_.’ She set +her face resolutely against all stock-riders, or sheep-farmers, or +bush gentlemen whatever. She wanted to marry some one who would take +her back to England to settle, and Mr Harland was the very man to suit +her. She thought him very good-looking (which undoubtedly he was), +and perfect in his manner of address, and was ready to credit him, in +addition, with all the minor virtues which are supposed to make the +happiness of a married life. So when he spoke so meaningly to her +concerning his jealousy of Vernon Blythe, she did not affect ignorance +of his meaning, but took his excuse as a matter of course. + +‘Well, I am glad you are penitent, at all events,’ she answered gaily, +‘for you have no real cause for ill-humour. You must be a terrible +tyrant, if you forbid your friends talking to any one but yourself.’ + +‘Ah! my _friends_ can do as they choose,’ he said significantly, ‘it +is only _you_ whom I would guard from all evil, as a miser guards his +treasure. But perhaps you will be angry to hear me say so.’ + +‘Well, I don’t think you have any _right_ to speak to me in that way, +Mr Harland,’ replied Grace, looking down. + +‘Give me the right, then, Grace,’ he whispered, bending over her chair. +‘Let me feel that when you are even speaking to others you are thinking +of me, and I will cast all my wretched jealousy from me like some +unholy thing.’ + +‘Oh, Mr Harland, how _can_ I? Remember how short a time we have known +each other. Barely six weeks.’ + +‘It has been long enough to bind me to you for ever.’ + +‘But I am not of age, you know. I have no power to decide such a +question for myself. My father is the proper person to speak to about +it. And I feel sure--_quite_ sure--that he would say it is a great deal +too soon.’ + +‘Then, don’t speak to him just yet, Grace. Let us keep our little +secret till we get to Tabbakooloo. Only tell me one thing--that if Mr +and Mrs Vansittart give their consent to it, you will be my wife.’ + +Grace blushed very becomingly as she answered in the affirmative. + +‘Only, Mr Harland, I must make one condition--’ + +‘Oh, don’t call me “Mr Harland.” Say “Godfrey,” that I may feel you +really look upon me as your own property.’ + +‘_Godfrey_, then. You must promise me, in case of papa’s consenting +to--you know what--that you will not settle in New Zealand, but take +me back to live in London. I am wretched at leaving it. I have not +seen nearly enough of its sights or its pleasures, and the very idea +of spending my life at the Antipodes is distasteful to me. I know +that you, too, like society, and theatres, and all the rest of the +amusements in dear, delightful old London. Promise to take me back to +them, won’t you? or else I really cannot--’ + +‘Don’t finish the sentence, for Heaven’s sake!’ cried Harland. ‘I will +promise anything and everything you exact from me, if you will agree in +return to give me the opportunity to fulfil my promises.’ + +Of course the idea of his returning to England, where he had another +wife and scores of creditors waiting for him, was utterly ridiculous; +but it was impossible to tell her so at that moment. Let him once be +her husband (or appear to be so), and he could find a dozen excuses for +breaking his word. But he must snare the bird before he plucked it. + +‘Yes! I promise, if my father and mother will permit me to do so,’ +replied Grace Vansittart, as he took her hand in his. + +‘And if they refuse, my darling, will you have the heart to give me +up?’ he whispered. + +‘Let us wait and see,’ said Grace. ‘It will be two months and a-half +yet before we reach our destination.’ + +‘How can I ever wait till then!’ exclaimed the enraptured lover, who +knew that delay was the very thing he wished for. + +This little episode happened when they were sitting almost alone upon +the poop, and believed themselves to be unnoticed. But Mrs Vansittart, +sitting in her cane-backed chair, and nodding with the heat over her +basket of knitting wools, was not so fast asleep but that she started +up every now and then, and in one of her starts she opened her eyes +upon Godfrey Harland holding Grace’s hand in his. The simple old lady +had never ‘cottoned’ to this adventurer as her husband and daughter +had. She was affable to him, but she had a slight distrust of him--just +sufficient to make her wide awake where her only child was concerned. +But she did not say anything to Grace. Whenever it came to finding +fault, she was just a wee bit afraid of the educated young lady who +knew so much more than herself. But when the dinner was over that day, +and the passengers were again on deck, enjoying the evening breeze, Mrs +Vansittart called her husband to her side on one of the saloon sofas. + +‘Stay with me for a minute, John,’ she said, ‘for I want to speak to +you on a matter of importance.’ + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIV. + +REMONSTRANCE. + + +‘Well, old lady,’ commenced Mr Vansittart facetiously, ‘and what is it? +I hope the skipper ain’t been taking liberties with you, nor nothing of +that sort.’ + +‘Oh, now, John! do stop your nonsense, when you know well I’ve been +your married wife for five-and-twenty years, and no man ever dared take +a liberty with me yet.’ + +‘Come, come! you’re forgetting,’ replied her husband. ‘Didn’t I catch +you once in our parlour at Tabbakooloo with Charlie Monro’s head in +your lap, and you kissing his hair?’ + +‘Oh, go along with you, John! You know the poor lad had just lost his +mother, and come to tell me so. And that reminds me how often I’ve +thought and wished that our Grace and Charlie might come together +by-and-by, and make a match of it.’ + +‘_That_ will never be,’ said Mr Vansittart. ‘Charlie’s too rough for +Grace. You forget what a lady our girl has grown.’ + +‘Oh, no, I don’t, John; and sometimes I almost wish we’d kept her +alongside of us. But that’s not to the purpose. I don’t want her to +choose in a hurry, and I’m afraid she’s getting on a little bit too +fast with that Mr Harland.’ + +‘Why, what makes you think that?’ + +‘I was watching them together on deck this afternoon, and I saw him +take her hand. John, did you hear anything more about Mr Harland’s +family and antecedents before we left England?’ + +‘No, my dear, I hadn’t the opportunity.’ + +‘I never _quite_ liked him,’ sighed the mother; ‘he has such sly eyes.’ + +‘Oh, come! that’s a very foolish reason. You mustn’t judge of a man by +his eyes. His actions is all we need go by.’ + +‘Has he ever spoken to you about our Grace, John?’ + +‘No, nothing particular. But I can see he admires her. Why should you +object to it? He seems a smart fellow, and he’s a thorough gentleman. +Of course the rhino’s the trouble, but he’s very frank about that, and +we’ve got more than we know what to do with, so it would be hard if our +only child shouldn’t suit her own taste with a husband.’ + +‘Oh, John, don’t talk as if it was a settled thing. Don’t let it go on. +Tell Grace it’s too soon to let Mr Harland get so intimate. I don’t +know _why_, but I’ve such a feeling against it--as if it would be the +cause of some great trouble. And I _did_ so want her to take a fancy to +Charlie Monro.’ + +‘Ah! that’s at the bottom of it all, old lady. You’ve taken to +match-making in your old age. Now, look here, take my advice, and leave +the young people to settle the matter for themselves. You wouldn’t have +listened to _your_ mother if she had told you to chuck me overboard and +take another man.’ + +‘But I had known you, John, for years; and how long is it since you met +Mr Harland?’ + +‘Not more than six weeks or so. We know nothing about him at all. And +we don’t need as yet, wife. There’s plenty of time before us. Grace +don’t want to marry him to-morrow, I suppose?’ + +‘Heaven forbid!’ + +‘Well, I can’t understand your taking such a sudden prejudice against +the young fellow. I think you must be jealous of losing your daughter. +After all, what has he done? Held her hand! Lord! I’d be sorry to have +to marry all the girls whose hands I’ve held!’ + +‘It don’t look well though, John.’ + +‘Then tell your daughter it don’t look well, and she’ll keep out of +your way next time she does it. Now, don’t you fret about nothing. I +can’t see any objection to it, if the young people _do_ fancy each +other. Harland is a man of good birth and breeding, and will suit Grace +a deal better than Charlie Monro.’ + +‘Then you won’t speak to her, John?’ + +‘No, my dear. You can do as you like about it, but I don’t care to +put my finger between the fire and the wood. If the young man was +objectionable to me, he wouldn’t be here. I sha’n’t take any notice of +the affair until he asks my consent.’ + +‘And you will give it, John?’ + +‘Yes! I guess I shall give it, conditionally. He must see his way to +making an income, of course, before he can marry a wife. But we’re in +no hurry to part with Grace, and a very small certainty will satisfy +me. All I think of is the girl’s happiness.’ + +‘That’s just what I’m thinking of too,’ sighed his wife. + +‘Well, mother, then we’re of one mind as usual. But I’ve promised to +join the gentleman in a game of poker, so I must leave you. Now, don’t +sit here by yourself, fretting for nothing.’ + +‘John, does Mr Harland play high?’ demanded Mrs Vansittart anxiously. + +‘Terrible high,’ replied her husband, laughing. ‘Farthing points, and +generally loses them. I won tenpence three farthings off him last +night. Oh! he’s an inveterate gambler. You may take my word for that.’ +And chuckling over his own sarcasm, he went off to the smoking-room. + +Mrs Vansittart, seeing it was of no use to speak to her husband on the +subject, resolved to take the first opportunity to broach it with her +daughter. She was a simple soul, and she felt nervous at the idea of +offending Grace; but she was a fond mother, and, like the timid ewe, +could fight to defend her young. But the opportunity did not occur +for some days. Then Grace, happening to have lingered too long in the +sun, contracted a violent headache, and came to her mother’s cabin to +lie down, and be petted and made much of. And whilst Mrs Vansittart +was bathing her daughter’s forehead with _eau-de-Cologne_, and fanning +it to soothe the pain, she ventured to allude to the subject which +occupied her mind. + +‘You shouldn’t stand in the sun, my dear, when there’s an awning to sit +under. You’ll get fever if you don’t take care. Whatever made you so +careless?’ + +‘I don’t know, mamma. I was talking, and didn’t feel how hot it was.’ + +‘Who were you talking to--Mr Harland?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘And what were you talking of?’ + +‘How can I remember,’ replied Grace, colouring; ‘a dozen different +things.’ + +‘A dozen different things don’t matter,’ said Mrs Vansittart +oracularly. ‘It’s _one_ thing I wouldn’t let Mr Harland speak of, if I +was you, Grace, my dear.’ + +‘And what is that?’ asked the girl, in a low voice. + +‘Marriage.’ + +‘Why not, mother? Why shouldn’t he speak of it as well as any other +man?’ + +‘Because I don’t think he’d make a good husband.’ + +‘What right have you to say so?’ cried Grace, starting up. ‘What has he +done to make you distrust him? Papa and he are such close friends; and +if papa had not considered Mr Harland to be good and trustworthy, would +he have asked him to accompany us to New Zealand?’ + +‘Ah, your papa and me don’t always think alike, my dear, although, I am +thankful to say, a difference of opinion doesn’t make us quarrel. And +men are blinder than women in such matters. They judge by the outside, +but we have our instincts.’ + +‘Do you want to set me against Mr Harland?’ exclaimed Grace, with +flashing eyes. + +‘Do you like him so much, then, my dear?’ + +‘Yes; that is to say, of course we all like him. Who could help doing +so, when he is so agreeable and good-looking?’ + +‘And he has told you that he likes you?’ + +Grace lay down on the pillow again, and turned her face slightly away. + +‘Don’t be afraid of me, my dear girl,’ continued Mrs Vansittart; ‘I +sha’n’t scold you, whatever may have happened. Is it a settled thing +between you and this gentleman?’ + +‘Contingent on your consent and papa’s,’ replied Grace. + +‘You mean if we say _yes_,’ corrected her mother, who was rather +puzzled by the word ‘contingent.’ + +‘Just so, mamma. Mr Harland has asked me to marry him, and I have +consented, provided you and papa have no objections to make to it.’ + +Mrs Vansittart began to cry. + +‘Oh, my dear! it’s terrible quick. Why couldn’t you have waited till +we got home to Tabbakooloo? There are so many nice young fellows about +there, and you’d have had a much better choice.’ + +‘I don’t want to choose. I’m quite satisfied with Mr Harland,’ said +Grace pettishly. ‘And why are you crying, mamma? What has he done? +Really, it’s quite alarming to see you go on in this way.’ + +‘Oh, Grace, my darling girl! don’t give him a final answer yet. Wait a +little longer,’ sobbed the old lady. ‘I can’t give you any reason, but +I’ve a notion it won’t turn out well.’ + +‘But this is nonsense,’ replied her daughter, from the heights of her +superior wisdom. ‘If you have any reasonable objection to Mr Harland, +mother, tell me what it is, and I will endeavour to fall in with your +wishes. But don’t condemn him for a chimera.’ + +‘A _what_, my dear?’ said Mrs Vansittart, opening her eyes. ‘I never +heard of such a thing. But he hasn’t no money. You must allow that. He +says so himself.’ + +‘I know he is in difficulties at present, but a year or so will clear +them all off. And the most fashionable people get into difficulties +sometimes, mamma, and have to mortgage their estates and let their +houses. You have only to hear Mr Harland talk, to know what splendid +circumstances he has been in. Besides, papa has always told me that the +want of money need never influence my choice of a husband, because he +has plenty for us all.’ + +‘You have made up your mind, then, to marry this Mr Harland, Grace?’ + +‘Yes, mamma, if papa and you give your consent.’ + +‘Oh, my dear child, I’d consent to anything for your happiness. +Only--will he make you happy?’ + +‘I think so,’ replied Grace. + +There was nothing more to be said, then--at least so Mrs Vansittart +thought, as she returned, with a deep sigh, to her former occupation of +bathing Grace’s forehead with _eau-de-Cologne_. + +Whilst this little scene was being enacted in the stern cabin, Vernon +Blythe was on deck, standing by the taffrail, and looking expectantly +towards the companion-ladder. It was his first watch that night from +eight to twelve. Mr Coffin had turned in, and the passengers were +amusing themselves with music in the saloon, and cards in the house +amidships. Suddenly Jack saw a pretty head, all covered with curls, +appear at the top of the ladder, and in another moment Alice Leyton +stood by his side. They were alone, but she did not hold up her face +to be kissed as they drew near each other. She seemed to have been +somewhat infected by Vernon’s low spirits the last few days, for she +had certainly been less talkative and merry than usual. + +‘Well, Jack,’ she said, as they came within hailing distance, ‘I +thought it was about time I came and looked after you. They are so dull +in the saloon. Almost everybody is reading, and all the gentlemen have +deserted us for those horrid cards. And you must feel it stupid up here +too. Let us try and enliven each other.’ + +‘Do you know,’ replied Jack, ‘that it is my watch, and you are not +supposed to speak to the officer on duty, Miss Alice?’ + +‘Bother your watch!’ she retorted. ‘As long as I do not interfere with +your duty, the captain will not object. Mr Coffin was telling me +yesterday that there is no rule about it.’ + +‘So you have been trying your hand upon poor old Coffin now, have you? +What a dreadful flirt you are. You’d coquet with your own shadow, +sooner than with nothing at all.’ + +‘Would I?’ cried Alice. ‘Not if it had a petticoat on. That’s all you +know about it, Jack. But what’s the matter with _you_. You’ve not been +half yourself lately. Mother says she hasn’t heard you laugh since we +came aboard.’ + +‘Too much to think of,’ replied Jack; ‘I have no time to laugh now.’ + +‘Too much to think of, you old humbug!’ laughed Alice. ‘Why, on a night +like this, there is no work at all to do. That’s why I have inflicted +my company on you. I was afraid you might go to sleep at your post.’ + +‘There’s no fear of going to sleep where _you_ are, Alice, and as long +as we don’t get a shift of wind, I hope you will stay here, and cheer +me on my lonely watch.’ + +‘Well, it strikes me you want cheering, Jack. Your face is as long as +a hatchet. Is it anything that _I’ve_ done?’ inquired Alice, with a +guilty fear that he would answer in the affirmative. But he didn’t. + +‘_You!_’ he exclaimed, reddening in the moonlight. ‘Oh, dear, no! +What _have_ you been doing? Anything naughty? Because, if that’s the +case, you had better make a clean breast of it at once, and receive my +absolution before you go to sleep.’ + +‘You’re quite sure you would give me absolution?’ she said saucily. + +‘I think so. Why not? It’s better than quarrelling with you, and it +saves a lot of trouble. Only I must hear what you have been guilty of, +before I can decide the amount of absolution you require, and whether +it can be conveyed by one kiss or half-a-dozen.’ + +‘Jack,’ said Alice, pouting, ‘I don’t believe you love me one bit!’ + +She was becoming fast aware that she didn’t care for him, and yet she +would not willingly have given him up to any other woman. Dogs in the +manger are nowhere in comparison with the fair sex. They may be utterly +sick of a man’s attentions, and wish never to receive them again, but +they would endure them to the extent of martyrdom sooner than see them +transferred to a rival. Their vanity cannot brook the idea of being +forgotten. + +‘What can I do or say to _make_ you believe it?’ returned Jack. ‘I +suppose you say that because I have so little time to devote to you +now. But you know that I would lie all day long at your feet, if I had +not these confounded watches to keep.’ + +‘But you never say anything nice when we _do_ meet,’ continued Alice. + +‘I didn’t know you cared for my nice things. You have so many people +to say them to you. Captain Lovell, for instance! Isn’t he whispering +soft nothings to you all day long?’ + +Alice blushed furiously. + +‘Jack! you’re not jealous--are you?’ she whispered. + +He burst out laughing. + +‘_Jealous!_ my dear child! Most _decidedly_ not! I’m only too delighted +to see my little girl so well appreciated. What sort of a fellow is +Lovell? Has he got anything in him? He looks rather an ass to me.’ + +‘Not at all,’ cried Alice indignantly; ‘he is very clever, and most +amusing. I never met any one who made me laugh so much. And he has +travelled all over the world, and has a wonderful memory. It is a shame +of you to call him an ass.’ + +‘I only said he _looked_ like one! It is all right if he isn’t,’ +remarked Jack coolly. + +‘You are jealous of him; that’s what it is,’ said Alice, in a temper. + +Jack walked straight up to her, and took her hand. + +‘My dear little woman! you are perfectly wrong. I am jealous of no man. +You have promised to be my wife, and I rest securely on that promise. +Were I to see you flirting with the whole world, I should not suspect +you of betraying me. Whilst I am engaged to you, I should consider it +most dishonourable to make love to another girl. Why should I suspect +you of possessing a lower nature than my own? So set your mind at rest +upon that score, Alice. I _trust_ you, my dear, as I hope you trust me.’ + +‘Good-night,’ said Alice, in a stifled voice, as she turned away. +‘Mother will be expecting me to join her in the cabin.’ + +‘Good-night,’ echoed her lover cheerfully. + +Neither of them kissed the other as they parted, though when this +ceremony had first been omitted between them, it would have puzzled +them to say--only they seemed somehow to have involuntarily dropped it. + +Alice ran down the companion almost too quickly for safety, and bolting +herself into the cabin, threw herself upon the berth, and burst into a +flood of tears. + +‘He is too good for me,’ she thought remorsefully, ‘a thousand times +over. He always was. He trusts me implicitly, and tells me to trust him +in the same manner. Oh, if he only knew!--if he _only knew_!’ + +But at this juncture she heard the cheerful bustle outside of the +gentlemen returning to the saloon to finish up the evening with singing +and flirtation, so Alice dried her eyes, and arranged her curls afresh, +and emerged to seek consolation at the hands of Captain Lovell. + + +END OF VOL. I. + + +COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: + + + Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. + + Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. + + Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. + + Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75726 *** |