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diff --git a/75728-0.txt b/75728-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..500d679 --- /dev/null +++ b/75728-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4526 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75728 *** + + + + + +DRIVEN TO BAY. + +VOL. III. + + + + + 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. III. + + 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. A PRIVATE FARCE, 1 + + II. GRACE AND GODFREY, 20 + + III. IRIS AND VERNON, 39 + + IV. THE HOUSE AMIDSHIPS, 56 + + V. FACE TO FACE, 72 + + VI. THE RENDEZVOUS, 88 + + VII. THE MURDER, 108 + + VIII. MISSING, 125 + + IX. MR FOWLER, 142 + + X. DRIFTING BACK, 157 + + XI. A CHANGE, 175 + + XII. EXPOSURE, 192 + + XIII. A LEE SHORE, 209 + + XIV. SHIPWRECKED, 224 + + XV. FARRELL’S REVENGE, 239 + + + + +“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 AND 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. + +A PRIVATE FARCE. + + +Miss Vere was not only a clever woman, and a woman of the world, she +was an excessively warm-hearted and generous woman,--one who, with a +large mind, could take pleasure in little things, and especially if +they gave pleasure to others. All this was plainly typified by the +interest she took in the _Pandora’s_ theatricals, and the trouble she +put herself to concerning them. She gained nothing by the act. She had +reaped her own laurels on the public boards, and wanted no applause +from private individuals. She was busy, moreover, with study for the +New Zealand tour, and had no more time than was necessary for her own +work. Yet she laid it all aside to coach her fellow-passengers in +their parts; to design their dresses; to suggest the rough scenery, +and even to superintend some of the preparations. The sailors had +rigged up a temporary stage in the steerage, where they had been +giving some uncouth performances themselves; and when the ladies and +gentlemen proposed to act, Captain Robarts had given leave for it to +be draped with the ship’s flags to form a proscenium, whilst some of +the men were told off to daub back canvases to serve as scenery for +the different acts. It was difficult to place ‘The Rivals’ on such +a stage with any effect, but the difficulty seemed to enhance the +excitement attendant on the amusement; and what with the ladies’ energy +and Miss Vere’s suggestions, the dresses promised to be marvellous, +considering the drawbacks placed in their way. For a week previous to +the performance, the good-natured actress had always one or more of +the aspirants for histrionic honours closeted with her in her private +cabin, whilst she drilled them in tone and gesture until they were +perfect in their parts. And with no one had she taken more trouble than +with Harold Greenwood. The poor little man had been so palpably ‘sent +to Coventry’ by his fellow-passengers, since the fright he had given +them, that his forlorn condition had excited Miss Vere’s compassion, +and she had shown him all the more kindness in consequence. But she +little knew the damage she was doing. Ever since their first meeting, +Mr Greenwood had secretly worshipped the fascinating actress. She +was just the sort of woman to attract a man of his calibre. Love +invariably loves a contrast. She was big, and he was small. She was +strong and energetic, and he was weak and incapable. She was full of +mirth and humour, and he was romantically and sentimentally inclined. +His nature unconsciously bowed before her strength and ability, and +he mistook the feeling for something different; for magnetism, if it +be not love itself, is quite as powerful, and more binding than the +master passion. Had Mr Greenwood’s fancy stopped there, it would have +done no harm to anybody; but, unfortunately, he mistook Miss Vere’s +good-natured attempts to make him forget the _contretemps_ which every +one else seemed determined he should remember, for a direct interest in +his own puny little person, and plumed his feathers accordingly. His +conceit and self-satisfaction became so offensively apparent, after +the actress had invited him to her cabin, and coached him there, in +some unimportant part for which she had cast him, just as a salve for +his wounded vanity, that Jack Blythe, whom he chose as a _confidant_, +felt inclined to kick him into the sea. The subject alone would have +been a source of irritation to Blythe, without the mode in which Harold +Greenwood conveyed it to him. Poor Jack was not in a humour just then +to receive love confidences from a successful suitor. He was suffering +terribly from the disappointment he had experienced, and it took all +his time to cast the devils of jealousy and envy out of him, and bring +his mind forcibly to bear upon his duty. And the intense conceit of +Harold Greenwood would have been sufficient to stir the wrath of a man +less irritably disposed than Vernon Blythe. + +‘Out of the way, there!’ he called sharply, on the morning of the +theatricals, as a coil of rope came whizzing along the deck about the +legs of Mr Greenwood, causing the little man to jump a couple of feet +in the air, to avoid being thrown down by it. + +‘Dear me!’ he ejaculated, ‘you might have given me warning, Mr Blythe. +You are all so awfully sudden in your movements on board ship, don’t +you know. One never has a moment to one’s self. And it’s really most +important that I should not be disturbed this morning! I’m studying +my part for this evening, don’t you know? You haven’t forgotten the +theatricals, eh?’ + +‘We can’t think of theatricals, or any other rubbish, when there’s work +to be done,’ replied Jack, somewhat roughly. ‘If you want to study, +you’d better go below. There’ll be more rope coming along by-and-by.’ + +‘No, thank you. I’m quite what Miss Vere calls “word perfect,” don’t +you know? A grand woman, Miss Vere, isn’t she now? Dear creature! what +hours of happiness we have had together in her cabin, preparing for +these theatricals. You’d envy me, Mr Blythe, if I told you all that has +passed between us.’ + +‘Perhaps I might. But I don’t know what right you have, Mr Greenwood, +to speak of any lady in such ambiguous terms. The more you have +received from a woman, the less you should say.’ + +‘Ah! but this is no secret, don’t you know? Everybody will hear it +soon. It will all be settled this evening.’ + +Jack looked at the pigmy with unfeigned surprise. + +‘What the d--l!’ he exclaimed. ‘You don’t mean to tell me there’s +anything serious in it?’ + +Mr Greenwood looked quite offended. + +‘_Serious_, Mr Blythe. Why don’t you ask me at once if I’m a man of +honour, or not? Do you suppose I’d let any woman get talked about +just for my own amusement? I’ve been brought up different from that, +don’t you know? and whatever gentlemen may be accustomed to do in the +merchant service--’ + +‘Here! just stow that about the service, will you?’ interrupted Jack +quickly. ‘There are as good men in the merchant service as out of it, +and please to remember, when you speak of it, that I’m one of them. +And, at all events, we sha’n’t go to _you_ to teach us how to treat a +woman.’ + +‘Oh, dear! Mr Blythe, I meant no offence. I was only speaking at +random, don’t you know? But you seemed to think it strange I should +have any intentions with respect to Miss Vere, eh? Well, of course I +know I shall have trouble with my own family about it, because we’ve +never done anything of the sort before--married an actress, don’t you +know? But I’m of age,’ said Mr Greenwood, drawing himself up to his +full height, ‘and in these affairs I ask leave of no one.’ + +‘Except the lady, I presume,’ replied Jack dryly. + +‘Except the lady, Mr Blythe, as you say. But the women--God bless +them--are not hard to please.’ + +‘I should think not,’ said the young officer, glancing at Harold +Greenwood critically; ‘and this lady, therefore, I am to presume, has +already succumbed?’ + +‘Oh, yes,’ replied Mr Greenwood, tittering; ‘she _has_ +succumbed--decidedly succumbed. I had not made up my own mind +concerning it until this morning, but she made up hers a fortnight ago. +Oh, I’ve had plenty of encouragement, don’t you know? The only thing +that has kept me back a little, is the fact of her being an actress; +but I shall make it a proviso that she gives up the stage.’ + +‘I should think she would give up anything for _you_,’ remarked Jack +ironically. + +‘Well, I generally find them pretty amenable,’ returned Harold +Greenwood, with the most ineffable conceit. ‘There is a little girl in +England now that is most doosidly gone on me, don’t you know? She would +have followed me to New Zealand if I hadn’t prevented her,--hid in the +hold or the steerage--’pon my soul she would, only to be near me, and +to see me, don’t you know? They’re very faithful creatures, women are, +when they _really_ love. Don’t you think so?’ + +‘I really cannot boast of your unlimited experience,’ replied Jack. ‘No +one has ever hidden in the hold, or the steerage, I am afraid, just to +catch a glimpse of me.’ + +‘Really. Well, I suppose it depends very much on a fella himself, don’t +you know? But the women always said I had a way with me.’ + +‘And when are you going to exercise your “way” on Miss Vere?’ + +‘This evening. Oh, yes, it’s quite settled between us that I shall +speak this evening. She’s expecting it, don’t you know? But we’ve been +so busy the last fortnight studying our parts, I thought it best not to +unsettle our minds by thinking of other things. But this evening it’ll +be all right. I suppose you’ll be coming down to the theatricals, Mr +Blythe, eh?’ + +‘Oh, yes, I hope to be there.’ + +‘Then, when they’re over, I shall have the pleasure of introducing you +to the future Mrs Greenwood. It’ll be all settled by then, don’t you +know? Oh, she’s a glorious creature. Such eyes--such a mouth--such +splendid hair, and such a beautiful figure! I do hope my people won’t +make a jolly row about her being an actress. But if they do, I’ve made +up my mind to go on the stage too, and play her lovers. I don’t think +I should like any other fella to play her lover. It would make me so +horribly jealous, and when I’m jealous, I’m as bad as Othello, don’t +you know?’ + +‘Dear me!’ said Jack, ‘you must be very dangerous. I shouldn’t like to +be the woman you caught tripping.’ + +‘By Jove! I’d kill her, don’t you know?’ replied Greenwood; ‘but +don’t let’s talk of anything so horrid. Emily--that’s Miss Vere, you +know--will never give me any cause for jealousy--I’m sure of that. She +loves me too well. If you’d seen her this morning when we went through +our scene together, you’d have been ready to die of envy.’ + +‘Well, I congratulate you,’ said Jack. ‘She’s a very handsome woman, +and a very clever one, and a mine of gold into the bargain. If you win +her, you’ll be a lucky fellow. But don’t count your chickens before +they’re hatched.’ + +Harold Greenwood was indignant at the suggestion. + +‘Don’t count my chickens before they’re hatched!’ he repeated. ‘But +they _are_ hatched, Mr Blythe, don’t you know?’ + +‘All the better for you, my boy,’ laughed Jack, as he walked away. + +That afternoon at dinner time Mr Coffin was on duty, and Blythe took +his place at the table. As he did so, he glanced with some curiosity at +the upper end, where Miss Vere, the Vansittarts, and the Leytons were +all clustered about the captain. Harold Greenwood was sitting opposite +the actress, devouring her with his eyes, and listening open-mouthed to +every word she said. As his glance met that of Vernon Blythe, he nodded +to him in a self-satisfied manner, and threw a significant look across +the table, as much as to say, ‘Now, you will see, don’t you know?’ and +Vernon, in consequence, kept his ears open for all that went on between +them. Miss Vere appeared to be in excellent spirits, and quite looking +forward to the evening’s amusement. + +‘My little “Julia” here, is simply perfect,’ she said to Captain +Lovell, as she laid a kindly hand on Alice Leyton’s shoulder, ‘and +when you see her in her short-waisted frock, I expect you all to lose +your hearts.’ + +‘Oh, Miss Vere! how can you talk so?’ exclaimed Alice. ‘When I hear you +speak, I shall be ashamed to open my mouth.’ + +‘That’s nonsense, dear,’ replied the actress. ‘If you could play as +well as I do, who have been so many years on the stage, my time and +labour would have been completely wasted. But you are an excellent +little actress, for an amateur, and if you had had my training, you +would play quite as well.’ + +‘You say that to encourage me,’ said Alice. + +‘And why shouldn’t I encourage you? I assure you I am very proud of my +“scratch” company, and feel sure we are going to have a most enjoyable +evening. Mr Greenwood will distinguish himself for one, I know.’ + +‘I shall do my best to please you, Miss Vere, in every way, before +the evening’s over, don’t you know?’ replied Harold Greenwood, with a +knowing glance, which almost amounted to a wink, at Vernon Blythe. + +‘That’s right,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Captain Robarts, I hope _you_ +mean to honour us by your attendance?’ + +‘Certainly, Miss Vere, unless the ship claims my attention elsewhere. +But you’ll have a good audience without me. Everybody is looking +forward to it with the greatest expectation. The steward told me there +was quite a disturbance amongst the steerage passengers when they heard +that they were all invited to attend.’ + +‘Poor dears!’ sighed Miss Vere softly. ‘I remember once when my husband +and I were--’ + +But here she was interrupted by Alice Leyton. + +‘Miss Vere,’ she exclaimed, loud enough for all the table to hear, ‘do +you know what you said?’ + +‘_What_ did I say?’ asked the actress, smiling. + +‘_Your husband!_ Are you really _married_?’ + +At that question, the curiosity of all the passengers was aroused, and +none more so than that of Vernon Blythe. The actress glanced up and +down the table at the expectant faces, in amused surprise. + +‘_Married!_’ she echoed, laughing merrily. ‘I thought all the world +knew as much as that. Why, _of course_ I’m married. Do I look like an +old maid? What horrible suspicions have attached themselves to me! I’ve +been married for the last ten years. I have five children,’ she added, +in a faltering voice, ‘at home.’ + +‘_Five children!_’ repeated Alice. ‘Oh, Miss Vere, do tell me about +them. What are their names, and are they boys or girls?’ + +‘Not now, dear,’ said her friend, as she dashed her hand across her +eyes. ‘Come to my cabin to-morrow, and you shall see all their +photographs. But if I talk of them now--well, not to put too fine a +point upon it, I shall begin to cry, and spoil my looks for to-night.’ + +‘How can you make up your mind to leave them?’ said Alice stupidly. + +‘I am obliged to make up my mind to it. I leave them for their sakes +as well as for my own. But my heart is very much divided, you know. +It is half in England, and half in New Zealand. My husband is my +business manager, and preceded me there by three months. I shall meet +him when we arrive at Canterbury, and that thought is quite enough to +counterbalance the pain of parting with my children.’ + +Poor Harold Greenwood had been fidgeting so dreadfully on his seat +during this conversation, that he attracted the actress’s attention. + +‘You mustn’t be offended, Mr Greenwood,’ she continued, smiling with +her beautiful eyes still wet with unshed tears, ‘if I tell you that +why I took a fancy to you is because there is something in your +face, and the colour of your hair, that reminds me of my eldest boy. +Dear little fellow! he went to school for the first time when I left +England, and I thought we should both have broken our hearts. If Mr +Perkins were only with me--’ + +‘Is Mr Perkins your husband?’ inquired Alice. + +Miss Vere burst out laughing. + +‘Yes, my dear! It is really true; but for Heaven’s sake don’t pursue +the subject. _I am Mrs Perkins._ But I keep it a secret of blood +and death. Please never call me anything but Emily Vere, or I shall +not answer to the name. And now it must be time to go and see after +our dresses. Mr Greenwood! didn’t I promise to be your lady’s-maid +to-night? If you find any difficulty in arranging your costume, come to +my cabin, and I will try and imagine you are my little boy, and play +“nurse” to you--’ + +‘No, no, thank you!’ stammered Harold Greenwood, as he tried to make +his escape from table. ‘I shall be all right, don’t you know?’ + +But Jack Blythe was not sufficiently magnanimous to let the humiliated +wretch pass him, without standing a jest at his own expense. + +‘I say, old fellow,’ he called out, as Greenwood tried to slink by his +chair, ‘don’t you forget your promise to me of this morning. You’ll +be sure to introduce me to the future Mrs Greenwood as soon as the +theatricals are over, won’t you? For the chickens are all hatched, you +know, and the business is as good as settled already.’ + +But the unhappy Mr Greenwood would not even attempt to say a word in +his own defence. Wrenching his coat-sleeve from the grasp of Vernon +Blythe, he rushed to his berth, and was seen no more till he appeared +upon the stage. + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER II. + +GRACE AND GODFREY. + + +Godfrey Harland and Grace Vansittart were neither of them included +in the amateur company that was to perform that evening on board the +_Pandora_. Parts had been allotted to both of them at first, but Miss +Vansittart, who had no idea of acting, found so much difficulty in +learning her lines and taking up her positions, that she had voted the +whole concern a bore, and thrown up her engagement in consequence. Upon +which Mr Harland had thought it politic to follow suit. He knew that +Grace would not like to sit out and watch him making mimic love to +another woman, so he told her that he preferred sitting out as well; +and she was only too delighted at his apparent devotion to refuse to +accept it. It was an old story between them. The woman was so deeply +in love as to be blind to the arts by which the man led her to believe +that he shared her feelings. And it was Godfrey Harland’s policy to be +more than usually attentive to Miss Vansittart at this period. He saw +plainly that something had gone wrong with the older folks. They were +still polite; but all the cordiality with which they had first greeted +him had died away. Mr Vansittart’s manner had become distant and cool, +whilst the old lady avoided him on every possible occasion. He began +seriously to fear that they were only keeping up appearances until they +arrived at Tabbakooloo, and that some disagreeable surprise awaited +him there. It therefore behoved him to make all the running he could +with the daughter before they reached their destination, so that there +might be no chance of her acquiescing in the decision of her parents, +if that decision proved to be against him. He was quite unprincipled +enough (as Will Farrell had suggested) to get the girl into his power, +so that there should be no turning back for her. + +The little stage on which the comedy was to be represented, consisted +of a few planks raised in the steerage, with a row of footlights before +them, which, to do honour to this grand occasion, had been surmounted +above and around with the Union Jack and other flags, in the form of +a proscenium. The auditorium, which was filled with chairs, benches, +chests, barrels, and any other articles capable of being used as seats, +was left in complete darkness, the only light being an oil lamp hung +in the entry to guide the feet of the audience. A rope tied across +the upper end distinguished the ‘stalls,’ reserved for the saloon +passengers, from the ‘pit,’ which was given over indiscriminately to +the rest of the ship’s company. All had been cordially invited to +attend, and the place was crammed for some time before the hour of +commencement; but Will Farrell had been before everybody else, and +secured seats for Iris and Maggie and himself on the benches that stood +nearest to the reserved portion of the arena. Iris had, of course, +informed Maggie of the confidence that had taken place between herself +and Mr Farrell, and the women were equally anxious to see what the +evening would reveal to them. No one who was not expecting to see +her would have recognised Iris Harland. She had pleaded an attack of +toothache as an excuse for wrapping up her head in a black woollen +shawl, and had so enveloped her features that they would have scarcely +been visible, even had there been light enough to distinguish them. A +few minutes before the representation commenced, the captain appeared, +followed by the saloon passengers, who, with a good deal of laughing +and talking, took their seats, and Iris shrank back as she saw her +husband conduct Miss Vansittart to the chairs just in front of her, so +that there were but a couple of feet between them. He threw a careless +glance behind him as he took his seat; but seeing only a couple of +dowdy-looking steerage passengers, as he imagined, did not give them +a second thought throughout the evening. Grace Vansittart was looking +flushed and handsome, though dressed in an extravagant fashion for a +performance on board ship, and Godfrey Harland was most attentive in +folding her crimson shawl about her shoulders, and seeing that she had +something to rest her feet upon. + +‘Do keep it on, my darling,’ Iris heard him say in French, as Grace +threw the wrap rather impatiently from her. ‘There is a horrid draught +in this place, and you know you have a slight cold. For _my_ sake keep +it on.’ + +‘I was _sure_ he’d bring her here,’ whispered Farrell to Iris. ‘All +the old people, you see, get as close as they can to the stage, so +that they may see and hear the better. But _his_ object is neither to +be seen nor heard. Can you understand the lingo they’re talking, Miss +Douglas?’ + +Iris nodded her head. + +‘Oh! well, then, it’s all right. But I was afraid he was going to trick +us. He _is_ a deep ’un, and no mistake.’ + +‘Hush, Will,’ said Maggie, ‘the play’s going to begin.’ + +At that juncture all eyes turned to the stage, and divers were the +opinions as to whether Miss Vere’s short-waisted dress of sunflower +hue, tied with a sash under her arms, or Miss Leyton’s soft white +muslin, became her best. The acting went smoothly, and the majority of +the audience were intensely interested in the comedy and its exponents. +But for some there, a more thrilling drama, the incidents of which were +interwoven with their very lives, was being enacted in the auditorium. + +Will Farrell had no personal interest in Godfrey Harland’s infidelity +to his wife, but he hated the man as he hated hell, and longed to see +him exposed on every point. Maggie, too, had her reasons for wishing to +be revenged on him; and Iris felt intuitively that in some unknown way +the happiness or misery of her whole future life lay in the discovery +of that evening. As she listened to her husband’s conversation with +Miss Vansittart, she was convinced of one thing--that she loved him +no longer. Not a particle of jealousy or regret assailed her as she +heard him pouring his tale of love into another woman’s ear. All she +felt was an intense surprise that she should ever have believed in, +or fancied she cared for, him. He seemed to appear before her for the +first time in his true colours. Had she seen him long ago, she thought, +as she did then, she never could have married him. + +And while Iris thought thus, another face rose up before her--the +pleading, earnest eyes of Vernon Blythe gazed into hers, and she +felt the tears of regret rise to dim her sight. But she brushed them +hurriedly away. She would not have had Farrell and Maggie think she was +weeping at what she saw before her, for all the world. Besides, she +wanted to keep her mind clear, in order not to lose a word of what was +passing between her husband and Miss Vansittart. And as she listened +she knew that all that had been told her was true, and Godfrey designed +to ruin another life as he had done hers. + +‘In a few more weeks,’ he whispered, when the curtain, amidst much +applause, had descended on the first act of the ‘Rivals,’ ‘we shall be +in New Zealand, Grace. Shall you be glad or sorry when our voyage is at +an end?’ + +He still spoke in French, which he had acquired fluently whilst +knocking about in the Southern States of America, and Grace, fresh from +her boarding-school, retained sufficient knowledge of the language to +understand and answer him. + +‘Why should I be sorry?’ she replied to his question. ‘We shall be as +much together then as we are now, shall we not?’ + +‘Ah, that is the doubt that worries me,’ said Harland; ‘will your +parents permit a free intercourse between us? You know how few +opportunities for meeting occur on land to what they do on board ship; +and unless I am received as your accepted suitor--’ + +‘But you _must_ be received as my accepted suitor! I will have no one +else,’ interrupted Grace determinately. + +‘My dearest, if it depended only on _you_, I know what my happy fate +would be. But it is this horrid £ _s._ _d._, Grace! I am so poor. Your +father is certain to look for money, in exchange for his daughter’s +hand.’ + +‘Well, I don’t know that, Godfrey! Papa has often told me he is rich +enough to be able to afford to let me choose for myself. And I _have_ +chosen! If he doesn’t like it, it can’t be helped! But I have chosen +_you_.’ + +‘My sweet girl! You will not be persuaded to give me up, then, Grace?’ + +‘Not for worlds! How _could_ I?’ + +‘But if, on arriving at Tabbakooloo, your father should absolutely +refuse to consent to our engagement, what then?’ + +‘I shall marry you without his consent! Godfrey, you _will_ marry me?’ +she added, with a quick look of alarm. + +He laid his hand on hers, with a soothing gesture. + +‘Do you doubt me, my darling? Have we not sworn to belong to each +other? If you are determined to stick to me, through thick and thin, I +want nothing more--’ + +She turned her head towards him then, and whispered in his ear, and +Iris could just see the glistening tear in her eye, as one of the +lights fell across her face. + +‘I understand,’ he answered, ‘and your assurance was all I needed to +make me perfectly happy. It is an agreement, then? Whatever any one may +say or think, you are to be my wife as soon as I can make you so?’ + +‘Whenever you like,’ she said, slipping her hand into his under cover +of her shawl. + +They spoke without reserve, because they quite believed that it was +safe to do so. The rest of the saloon passengers were well in front +of them. As to the inmates of the second cabin and steerage, who +sat behind, they did not suppose for a moment that any of them could +understand, even if they overheard, their words. How little they +imagined _who_ sat just behind them. + +‘Godfrey,’ said Grace, after a pause, ‘I cannot believe I am really the +first girl to whom you have said such sweet things! Tell me the truth +now. Have you often been in love before?’ + +‘_Never!_ That is, _really_ in love, Grace. I have had my flirtations +and _amourettes_--what man of my age has not?--but I never felt what it +was to be _in earnest_ until now.’ + +‘Have you never thought of marrying any other woman?’ + +At this point-blank question, Iris could see, even through the gloom, +that Godfrey winced. + +‘Now, don’t call me to book for my thoughts, you little tyrant!’ he +answered, with affected gaiety. ‘The fact remains that--that--I am +going to marry _you_. Is not that sufficient?’ + +‘Yes, more than sufficient. It makes me so happy,’ said the girl +earnestly, ‘to think that I shall belong to you only, and that you will +belong only to me! The world will seem like fairyland when we share it +together.’ + +‘Still, my darling, the truth remains that, since they have seen that +we love each other, your parents have not been so cordial to me as they +were. You never hear your father ask me to take a hand at whist in +the evenings now; and as for your mother, she scuttles out of the way +whenever she sees me coming. It makes things very unpleasant for me, +especially as I am in Mr Vansittart’s employment. Has he ever warned +you against me?’ + +‘Never mind,’ replied Grace soothingly; ‘it can make no difference to +us if he _has_. We are going to marry each other, whatever they may +say; and when it is once over, they will not hold out long against +their only child. Why, who have they but me? It will all come right, +Godfrey, never fear. And, meanwhile, we love each other, and nothing on +earth can alter that.’ + +As Iris listened to the words of this girl, whom love, however +misdirected, was transforming from a pert boarding-school miss to +a thoughtful woman, the tears ran down her cheeks with pity and +compassion. It was terrible to her to sit there, the lawful wife of +Godfrey Harland, and hear another woman express her implicit faith +and trust in him; whilst she knew that, before long, she herself must +inevitably be the instrument to open that woman’s eyes, and expose the +treachery and falsehood of which she had been made the victim. The +idea turned Iris sick and faint, and she rose from her seat with the +intention of leaving the theatre. + +‘What is the matter?’ asked Farrell; ‘are you ill?’ + +‘Yes,’ she whispered back to him; ‘I have heard enough! Let me go to my +berth.’ + +They both wanted to accompany her, but she over-ruled their request, +and begged them not to make a commotion that might attract attention +to their party. So they let her have her own way, and as soon as she +could do so without disturbing the audience, she crept away. She was +trembling all over, however, as she did so; and when she reached the +entrance of the auditorium, and felt the fresh air blowing on her face, +she leant against the side for a moment to recover herself, and pulled +the wrap off her face. + +‘Are you not well?’ said a voice by her side. + +She looked up and encountered Vernon Blythe. The sight of him set her +tears flowing in earnest. + +‘Oh, yes! thank you. Only the place is too hot for me, and I am going +on deck instead.’ + +‘Let me go with you.’ + +‘No! no! Why should I take you away from your amusement? I am perfectly +well able to go by myself.’ + +‘Have I made you afraid of me, Iris?’ he asked gently. ‘You need not +be. You must know that if I offended you, it was done in ignorance of +your position, and I shall never repeat it. Show me that I am forgiven +by letting me attend you now.’ + +‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she faltered, placing her hand upon his +for a moment; ‘and I was only sorry that circumstances had misled you. +But why have you never spoken to me since? Am I to lose your friendship +as well as--as--everything?’ + +‘I have been too unhappy to be able to trust myself to speak to you,’ +said Vernon frankly, as he led her on to the quarter-deck. ‘The shock +of your intelligence was greater to me than you may think. I had been +living on my hope ever since I met you again, and believed you to be +free, and when you dashed it from me, it knocked me over--that’s all. +Don’t be angry with me. A woman can’t understand a man’s feelings in +such matters. We can’t drink milk after brandy. And so I have kept out +of your sight, that I might dream of you as little as possible. And I +didn’t think that you would miss me.’ + +‘Oh, yes, I have,’ replied Iris simply. ‘All my pleasure seemed gone +with you. Perhaps, as you say, I cannot enter into your feelings; but I +think I would rather have “milk” than nothing at all.’ + +‘Let us have some “milk” now, then,’ replied Jack, almost cheerfully, +as he placed her under the shelter of the long-boat, and established +himself by her side. ‘Let us be friends, since we can be nothing more. +And now, what is the fresh trouble, for I can see there is something +fresh by your face? Treat me like a friend, and tell me everything.’ + +‘Yes! indeed I will,’ said Iris, ‘for I feel that it will be a great +comfort, and perhaps a help to me. I will tell you everything, and you +shall advise me what is best to be done. And in the first place, Mr +Blythe--’ + +‘That’s a bad beginning,’ interrupted Jack, ‘for in the first place, +you must not call me “_Mr Blythe_.”’ + +‘What am I to call you then?’ + +‘What _used_ you to call me when we walked and talked together at +Dunmow?’ + +‘Ah! that was such a long time ago, and you were such a boy!’ + +‘Well, some people say I’m not much more than a boy now, and, at all +events, it is not so long ago as to be forgotten. I think you used to +call me “Vernie” then. Won’t you call me by that name now?’ + +‘If it will please you--’ commenced Iris hesitatingly. + +‘It will give me about as much pleasure as I am capable of, Iris. If I +may not be your lover, let me fancy myself your friend.’ + +‘There is no fancy about _that_,’ she answered warmly; ‘and I will call +you whatever you like. Come nearer to me then, Vernie, and let me tell +you all.’ + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER III. + +IRIS AND VERNON. + + +He drew nearer to her, on that invitation, and took her hand in his. +Iris trembled slightly, but she did not withdraw it. + +‘The worst thing I have to accuse myself of, with regard to you, +Vernie, is that I deceived you on our first meeting, by letting you +believe I was a widow. But I was frightened into the deception. I did +not know what else to say. You asked me why I was masquerading on board +the _Pandora_ under the name of Douglas, and it was impossible for me +to tell you _then_. Now, things have gone so far, that I feel I must +confide in some one, and I know you will respect my confidence.’ + +‘I will respect as much as I shall value it, Iris. But tell me all that +has happened to you since we parted. You can’t think how ignorant I am. +After that never-to-be-forgotten day, when I rushed half mad from your +presence--but there, we won’t say another word about _my_ troubles--but +since that time I have never heard anything of you except the bare fact +of your marriage. I do not even know your husband’s name, unless it is +Douglas. I don’t know where you have been living, or if you have been +happy or miserable. Tell me your whole story--that is, if it will not +give you pain.’ + +‘I mean to tell it you, Vernie. I wish you to hear it. Until you do, +you cannot give me the counsel of which I stand so much in need. +You know that when we met, I was already engaged to be married. My +poor old father, who was very weak and easily taken in, had made +the acquaintance of a good-looking young Englishman, fresh home +from America, who seemed to have plenty of money, and to have been +everywhere, and seen everything,--a man with a pleasant, free manner +and a glib tongue, and no objection to tell an untruth, though, of +course, I didn’t know that at the time. Well, he brought him to our +house, and he fell in love with me, and--and--’ + +‘And you fell in love with him, Iris.’ + +‘I suppose I did.’ + +‘Why do you say “_suppose_”?’ + +‘Because I have my doubts now as to whether I ever _did_ love him. +However, I was only eighteen, and I thought I did. He seemed everything +that was delightful to me, and _you_ looked such a boy by his side.’ + +‘Ah! poor me. Leave _me_ out of the story altogether.’ + +‘No; I don’t want to do so. I am proud to remember that you cared for +me, and feel honoured by your preference, and still more, Vernie, that +it should have lasted all this time.’ + +He squeezed her hand, but made no answer. + +‘Well, we were married not two months after I had sent you away, and he +took me to Liverpool.’ + +‘What _was_ his name, Iris?’ + +‘Wait a minute, and I will tell you. I was too young at first to +understand what the mode of my husband’s life could mean. I thought it +very strange that it altered so constantly; that sometimes we lived +in big hotels, and sometimes in squalid lodgings; that at one time he +would appear to have his pockets full of money, and at others we had +nothing but bread and cheese to eat, and creditors were clamouring all +day to have their bills paid. My husband, too, spent all his evenings +and most of his nights away, and I was very friendless and solitary in +consequence. One thing I did very soon understand, and that was, that +he was addicted to intemperance. He was seldom quite sober, and his +violence when intoxicated kept me in constant dread of him.’ + +‘My poor darling,’ cried Jack impetuously, and then correcting himself, +‘I beg your pardon, Iris,’ he continued; ‘but why didn’t you go back to +your father?’ + +‘Oh, Vernie, how could I? Don’t you remember how poor my father, +Captain Hetherley, was? He had nothing but his half-pay to live on, and +he was getting old, and needed a few comforts. How could I have thrown +myself on him for support? Besides, he died in the first year of my +marriage. His home could not have provided me with shelter for long.’ + +‘Well, dear, go on. What next?’ + +‘There were other things for me to bear beside the shame of debt, and +the fear of my husband’s cruelty. I discovered, only too soon, that his +love for me had been but a passing fancy, and that his fancy altered +like the wind. Had I cared for him, I might have broken my heart from +jealousy of others.’ + +‘Oh, Iris. What man could have the baseness to treat you in such a +manner. _You_, who had been so delicately nurtured and trained, and +so much indulged. Why _I_ could have given you a happier and more +respectable lot than this.’ + +‘I have often thought so too,’ she whispered. + +‘Have you really?’ exclaimed Vernon joyfully. ‘Is it possible that in +the midst of so much misery you had time to think of _me_?’ + +‘Oh, often, often. When I have been most unhappy and most disappointed, +the remembrance of you has come back to me most clearly, and I have +longed to be able to tell you that I was sorry I had caused you so much +pain.’ + +‘Never mind, my dearest. You are making it up to me now a thousand +fold. Let me hear the rest of your story.’ + +‘It was not long before my husband took me away from Liverpool, and +then we lived in all sorts of places, but it was always the same life +of solitude and discomfort for me, until Maggie came to live with us, +and be my friend. He never dared to treat me so unkindly after she +came. She seemed to hold some sort of power over him--in fact, I often +thought he was half afraid of her. Well, this went on until about a +year ago, when we came to live in London. And there I found out that my +husband made his money entirely by gambling. He hadn’t a penny of his +own, and he was constantly getting into scrapes, and having to run away +and keep in hiding for weeks together, and Maggie and I used nearly +to starve whilst he was gone. But he made some rich friends in London +nevertheless, during some of his lucky moments, and spent half his time +with them. And one day he told me he should be obliged to run over to +France for a few weeks, as his creditors were pressing him very hard, +and I believed him, until I picked up a letter he left behind him by +accident, and found that he had accepted an appointment in New Zealand +instead, and was going out in this very ship.’ + +‘In the _Pandora_!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘You don’t mean to tell me your +husband is on board this vessel?’ + +‘I do mean to tell you so. I am the wife of Godfrey Harland.’ + +‘_Of Mr Harland._ Good heavens!’ said Jack; ‘but, Iris--’ + +‘Don’t interrupt me, Vernie. I have nearly reached the end of my +story. You can understand now why Maggie and I are here, hiding in the +second cabin. Mr Harland intended to leave us in England to beg--to +steal--or to starve. He knew we had no other means of subsistence. But +I determined to circumvent him. If he was to draw a good salary as +Mr Vansittart’s agent, I did not see why he should not support me as +I have a right to be supported. So Maggie and I sold all our little +belongings, and came after him, with the intention of not revealing our +identity until we landed in New Zealand. But now I hardly know what to +do.’ + +‘You are _Godfrey Harland’s wife_?’ mused Vernon Blythe. ‘It seems +incredible to me. And yet how intuitively that man and I have disliked +each other from the moment we met. But, Iris, do you know that he is +passing himself off as an unmarried man, and that all the ship says he +is engaged to Miss Vansittart?’ + +‘I know more, Vernie. I sat just behind them this evening at the +theatricals, and heard their conversation. They spoke in French, and +thought, therefore, they could do so unreservedly. She considers +herself undoubtedly engaged to him. They discussed their marriage +prospects together, and agreed that if, on landing. Mr and Mrs +Vansittart refused their consent, they were to be married at once +without waiting for it. And now I have told you all this, that you may +be able to advise me. What ought I to do? What is my duty to do in this +matter?’ + +‘To stop it at once, Iris. What has this poor girl Miss Vansittart +been guilty of that you should let her suffer one jot more than is +necessary? Were I you, I should go this evening to Mr Vansittart, and +tell him the whole story.’ + +‘Oh, no,’ replied Iris, shrinking from the idea; ‘not till I have +spoken to Godfrey, Vernie, and given him the opportunity to return to +his duty. Would it not seem like malice, or jealousy, to go to the +Vansittarts first? They don’t like him, you know, and they look coldly +on his attentions to their daughter--Miss Vansittart acknowledged as +much to-night--and so they would not blame him for withdrawing from +them. And with her, of course, he must make his own peace.’ + +‘And what is to follow the disclosure of your proximity?’ demanded +Jack, somewhat sarcastically. ‘Tears, kisses, repentance, forgiveness, +blue-fire, and general rejoicings.’ + +Iris was silent. + +‘Tell me, Iris, are you going to tumble into your husband’s arms as +soon as you meet him, and take him back again if he promises to be a +good boy and never do it again?’ + +‘You don’t _know_ me,’ was all she answered. + +‘I know what women are, as a rule, stupid, soft-hearted creatures, that +believe every word that is said to them, and are always ready to think +themselves in the wrong.’ + +‘Up to a certain point, Vernie, perhaps we do. But there comes a day +for most of us, when we feel that we can forgive no longer. And I have +reached that day and passed it. Were I of a revengeful nature, I +should think there was no motive but revenge in what I am going to do +now.’ + +‘It would be a solemn duty left undone were you to ignore it, Iris. +Whatever might happen to that poor girl hereafter, would lie at your +door. Were I to follow my own wishes, I should say,--let the brute +commit bigamy, and free yourself from him. Why should you be linked +all your life to a man who is less than a husband to you? It is not +_he_ who deserves our pity. But for the woman who is innocently walking +into the trap he has laid for her, we cannot feel too much. I think you +should inform the Vansittarts, and deprive Harland of the appointment +they have promised him, at once. Why should such a scoundrel be placed +in a position of trust and emolument?’ + +Iris’s hazel eyes dilated with horror. + +‘But, Vernon, you don’t know him. What should _I_ do under such +circumstances--left at his mercy in a strange land? Why, he would +_kill_ me, in revenge for his loss. Oh, no; _I dare not_! I shall not +even threaten him with the disclosure that I am his wife. I don’t want +to live with him again. I detest the thought of it. All I meant to tell +him was that I am here, and as long as he sends me enough money to live +on, I promise to remain quiet.’ + +‘But, Iris, that looks like collusion to me. Under such circumstances, +you will leave him free to work what villainy he chooses, so long as +you get your remittances. Is that just?’ + +The girl bent her head upon her knees and rocked herself backwards and +forwards, moaning. + +‘Oh, dearest, don’t do that!’ cried Vernon; ‘you distress me beyond +measure. Is it possible this brute inspires you with so much fear?’ + +‘_Fear!_’ she repeated, with a shudder, ‘I am so much afraid of him +that I feel, when the moment comes, I shall be too cowardly to speak +at all! Oh, Vernie! let him go on. What does it signify to me? Miss +Vansittart is as well able to take care of herself as I was; and if she +suffers--well, we _all_ suffer! I think we are born for nothing else. +But I _cannot_ go back to him. I would rather throw myself overboard at +once!’ + +‘Iris,’ said Vernon, and his voice shook audibly as he spoke, ‘don’t +be angry with me for what I am going to say. I should not have dared +to speak my mind, had not your distress emboldened me. But--if I am +not utterly distasteful to you, darling--let me save you from all this +misery. Let me take you away from it! You shall never say then that you +need love or protection. My heart has been yours since we first met, +and my arm shall be at your service till death parts us! Will you come, +Iris? will you be _my_ wife--in deed if not in name--and let me try +and make up to you for the wretched failure of your married life?’ + +She looked up into his brave, kind young face with surprise, but +without any horror. + +‘Oh, how _good_ you are!’ she exclaimed gratefully; ‘and how you must +love me to make such a proposal. To offer to cloud all your life +and prospects with the burden of a disappointed and broken-hearted +woman,--a woman who would bring shame on your name and your mother’s, +and be but a sorry pleasure to you after all, so that you may patch +up her ruined life, and make her feel at ease once more. Do you think +I would accept your offer, Vernie?--that I would be so selfish as to +do it? Some women might forget to be grateful, in prating to you of +the wrong of such an action. But I can’t. I can only see the love that +prompted it, and thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I don’t +mean to avail myself of it all the same.’ + +‘You could never be a burden to me, Iris,’ he answered simply; ‘for I +have loved you so long. And as for my mother--you don’t know what a +good, generous, warm-hearted creature she is. She would brave anything +for the sake of the woman who loved _me_.’ + +‘But I have never said I loved you,’ returned Iris, with a faint smile. + +‘Will you say it now? It would make me so very happy! Will you say +that--if you were free--you would be my wife?’ + +‘Oh, yes! yes! A thousand times over!’ she answered, weeping. ‘_I do +love you_, Vernie; I love you as much as you love me. But don’t talk of +it; it will never, _never_ be! Such things don’t happen in this world. +I have forged my own chains, and I must wear them, however hardly they +may press upon me; but I shall never forget what you have said to me +to-night, and the remembrance will make me happier to the last day of +my life.’ + +‘Then I won’t wish my words unsaid, Iris. But with respect to Harland, +what do you intend to do?’ + +‘I will think it over to-night. I have resolved to speak to him. The +only thing is, how shall I do it? Perhaps I will write a letter, and +you shall give it to him. I would not like to trust _anybody_; or, as +he has a deck cabin to himself, I may go and speak to him after he +has retired for the night. It little matters _how_ it is done, but it +_will_ be done before this time to-morrow.’ + +‘That is a brave girl,’ said Blythe, ‘and, remember, there is no cause +for fear. _I_ am here to protect you, dearest, and not a hair of your +head shall be harmed on land or at sea, so long as I stand by to +prevent it!’ + +‘You make me feel so safe,’ replied Iris, with a grateful sigh. ‘I will +go below now, Vernie, and dream that I have one friend left to defend +me against my enemy.’ + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE HOUSE AMIDSHIPS. + + +The next morning the weather was damp and squally, the air close and +depressing. There was a faint breeze from the westward, but the clouds, +which at times obscured the sun and poured down torrents of cold rain, +were making a northerly course. + +The day was by no means an enjoyable one, and the spirits of the +passengers--which were suffering a reaction after the excitement +attendant on the theatricals--would have fallen considerably with the +state of the atmosphere, had they not been kept up by the welcome +news, that should the vessel be lucky enough to get a fair wind, they +would actually sight land in less than a week. In a week’s time, +perhaps, they would step ashore, and those fond meetings, of which +they had dreamt throughout the voyage, would be realised. Under such +thoughts and anticipations, they were mostly flurried and restless, +given to talking excitedly and laughing at untoward moments, and +appearing on deck after every squall to look out for the longed-for +gale that should blow them to their destination, only, however, to be +driven below again by a remorseless storm that enveloped the _Pandora_ +in a drenching shower. + +There was one portion of the vessel which played an important part upon +the voyage, but has not yet been mentioned. This was the forward house +amidships. There were two houses built upon the maindeck, one abaft the +mainmast on the quarter-deck, the other abaft the foremast. The former +was the smoke-room, the latter was divided into five separate sections, +and to make their respective positions clear, it is necessary to give a +full description of them. + +In the after-part of the house amidships, on the morning in question, +Billy Banks, the West Indian cook, was busily employed in peeling +potatoes. Seated on a kid in solemn majesty, with his rolled-up sleeves +displaying two coal-black arms, he disengaged the spuds from their +jackets, and tossed them into a bucket of water to rinse, previous to +putting them in the copper. Occasionally he would turn towards the +stove, and lift the cover of a saucepan, lest the contents should boil +over; and the sailors came and went meanwhile, but Billy never answered +their coarse jests except by a movement of the head. + +The after-door, which faced the main-hatch, was partly hidden by the +donkey winch, and under this convenient shelter, Billy, surrounded by +his pots and pans, was able to roast and boil at his ease. + +Now and then a lazy shellback would stretch himself out before the +galley fire, and spin him a long yarn, and Billy would reward him +for his trouble with a savoury ‘flap-jacks’ (the sailor’s name for a +pancake), or the remains of a dish that had left the saloon table; for +the black cook seldom left the galley, and the steward, whose business +it was to look after him, always found him at his post. In truth, Billy +had nowhere else to go. He disliked the rough horse-play of the seamen, +and could not stand ‘chaff’ well enough to associate happily with them; +the carpenter and boatswain seldom invited him to their berths, and +his own was far from agreeable, even to a black man’s nostrils. It +was situated on the right side of the house, built fore and aft, and +was certified to hold four men, therefore he had ample room. But the +odour pervading the place was more than any one could be expected to +endure. In the top bunk Billy slept. His bedding consisted of an old +straw mattress and pillow, two red blankets, and a stained and faded +monkey jacket, which he used as a coverlet. Across the room, suspended +on a line, hung sundry dilapidated and discoloured articles of linen, +supposed to be clean; and in the corner, lashed to the deck, was a +sea-chest, adorned with the brightest colours, like a Runcorn flat. + +In the lower bunks, tin pannikins, new brooms, chopping-boards, +and kids were securely stowed, so that the rolling of the vessel +might not set them clattering against each other; and in the after +corner four mysterious casks were made fast to the stanchions. These +casks contained ‘slush,’ which is always recognised as part of the +cook’s perquisites at sea. And Billy, who was either too lazy or too +frightened to stow it, like a rational being, in the forepeak, kept the +unsavoury, nauseous matter in his berth. Few, perhaps, may, luckily +for themselves, be acquainted with the stuff. It is the skimming of +all the greasy liquids, the odds and ends which may be left upon the +dinner plates, the scrapings of the frying-pans, the searchings of the +‘kids’--in fact, every conceivable kind of oily substance which may +fall into the cook’s hands, and which is carefully collected and stowed +away, to be sold on landing at a high price for the manufacture of +different kinds of machinery oil. + +When the ‘menavellins’ have been kept for a month, the sickly stench +from their decomposition may be well imagined, and no living creature +but a negro could have slept in the fœtid air which exhaled from them. +It is very certain that coloured noses can stand much more than white +ones. It only needs the introduction of an European to Cow Yard, which +is the ‘nigger’ locality of Port of Spain, or to the back slums of +China Chowk, Calcutta, or to Twenty-Seventh Street, in Rangoon, to +demonstrate the truth of the assertion. The cleansing of the mythical +Augean stables would be a simple task compared to the purification of +any one of the above-mentioned localities. In such squalid filth and +rank odours can both the East and West Indians live and thrive. + +But enough of Billy Banks. On the other side there slept, in a berth of +the same dimensions, two more wholesome personages--Alexander M’Donald, +the carpenter, commonly called ‘Chips,’ and William Hanlin, boatswain. +Their little domicile was ship-shape, and displayed an air of comfort. +The upper bunks were used for sleeping berths, and the lower served as +lockers for different stores. + +Iron bolts, nuts, sheaves, and screws were kept in different +compartments, besides spun yarn, mallets, small blocks, and +marlinspikes. + +There were three sea-chests that were used as seats, and a small table +(that could be shipped for meals, and lowered when room was required) +was hinged to the bulkhead. + +Under the swinging lamp above the table a neat pipe rack, filled with +‘clays,’ had been fixed by the carpenter, and his shipmate had added to +their homely comforts by making a fancy lashing for the water-beaker, +which was resting on chocks at the further end. + +As for their beds, a patchwork quilt, like Joseph’s coat of many +colours--a parting present from his wife--distinguished Hanlin’s +resting-place from that of ‘Chips,’ which was covered by a traveling +rug, representing a furious orange and red tiger, in the act of +springing on a defenceless green and yellow woman, cowering under a +blue and purple garment. + +The boatswain, like his commanding officer, was a man of few words. +His voice was gruff, and his hard life had made him reserved and +unpolished, but he was good hearted, and often passed over the +faults that came under his notice. The men in his watch were engaged +upon various duties that did not require his supervision, so, after +satisfying himself that they were steadily at work, and the mate was +nowhere in sight, he stepped over the weatherboard of his berth, and +lighting a pipe, sat down to refresh himself with a few unlicensed +puffs. + +Shortly afterwards he was joined by ‘Chips,’ who entered ostensibly to +fetch, a new cold chisel, but when he discovered that his friend was +drawing the calumet of peace, he chopped up a pipeful of plug, which he +produced from under his mattress, and came to an anchor by his side. + +The carpenter (as his name denoted) hailed from Scotland, and was a +loquacious fellow, often amusing himself whilst at work by singing +snatches of his favourite Burns, extoling the virtues and beauties of +his native land. + +‘Dirty weather!’ he remarked, as he took his seat beside Hanlin. + +‘We shall get a spell of this wind in the wrong quarter, if I’m not +mistook,’ said the boatswain, with an ominous ‘_Humph_,’ as he filled +the berth with clouds of smoke, sucking at his pipe as if he had not +enjoyed such a treat for weeks past. + +‘Ay, ay, laddie; but it’s unsteady’ replied Chips, ‘and maybe it will +shift round to the right quarter before midnight. Them lassies aft +are near piping their eyes because she’s made so little headway, but +they’ll see their men before a week’s over their heads for all that.’ + +‘What’s for dinner?’ demanded the unsentimental boatswain. + +‘Peasoup and pork,’ replied ‘Chips.’ ‘I can eat the salt meat this +weather; it gives me a twist; but I shall be glad when we gets +alongside the New Zealand mutton--not the tinned stuff, you ken, but +the real article.’ + +‘Hand me a pannikin’ said the boatswain, who detected the approach of +the first officer, and stooping down, he drew a mug of water, and drank +it off. Then, without a look at his colleague, he put the pannikin in +the lower bunk, and stepped out upon the deck. + +‘Look here, boatswain,’ said Mr Coffin, ‘send a couple of hands up to +shift that royal; and, carpenter,’ he continued to M’Donald, ‘I want +you to see about the steps of that side ladder’; and with an ‘Ay, ay, +sir,’ the petty officers prepared to carry out his orders. + +Between the two berths was a large air-shaft which was used as a +ventilator to the ’tween decks, and separated the cosy little place +just described, and which was pervaded by a healthy smell of Stockholm +tar, from the inodorous hovel of Billy Banks. + +The fifth division of the house formed a room which was called the +spare galley. An iron partition alone separated it from the kitchen, +which rendered it so hot that it would have been impossible for any one +to live, or sleep there; and as it was considered a dangerous locker +in which to keep the spare suit of sails, it was thrown open for the +public use. It was but a small compartment, built athwart-ships, with a +teak-wood door, and dead-lights at either side. + +The jolly-boats were kept, bottoms upward, on the skids which rested +upon the house, and served as shelter from the squalls, and a welcome +haven for the sailors on watch on rainy nights. + +During the morning in question, a purple curtain rose and shut out the +faint gleam of the sun, and then burst suddenly upon the _Pandora_ in a +pitiless storm of rain, mingled with large hailstones. + +Iris Harland, who had been walking up and down the deck, trying in +vain to decide how she should disclose her identity to her husband, +without encountering danger from the vials of his wrath, was caught by +the shower, and obliged to run for shelter under the boats until the +violence of the gale should have somewhat passed over. + +‘Look ’ere, missy, step inside there,’ said one of the sailors, opening +the door of the spare galley; ‘it’ll be nice and warm for ye.’ + +‘Thank you,’ replied Iris, whose slight clothing was already wet +through; and as she took advantage of his offer, the sailor (whose +watch below it was) firmly closed the weather door, leaving the one to +leeward open. + +‘Ye’ll soon be ashore now, missy,’ he said, wishing to open a +conversation; ‘we’re a’most there by this time.’ + +‘Yes; I’m very glad,’ replied Iris vaguely, looking dreamily before +her; ‘we have had a capital voyage, have we not?’ + +‘Nought to growl on,’ answered the man; ‘fine weather--a good ship--no +deaths--and a doctor ready to give us a clean bill of health. I ’spose +now, missy, as you’re goin’ out to meet your friends,--your sweetheart, +may be--if I may make so bold. Ah, it won’t be long before _you’ll_ get +a husband, _I_ know.’ + +But Iris did not answer him. Her frame was trembling like an aspen +leaf--her cheeks were blanched--her breath had almost stopped. For +another passenger had rushed suddenly in to take refuge from the +storm, and stood beside her, and that other was Godfrey Harland, her +husband. The moment for discovery had come, and notwithstanding all the +encouragement that Vernon Blythe had tried to give her, Iris felt like +a criminal tied to the stake. + +‘You are not well, missy,’ said the sailor, noticing her perturbation; +‘shall I fetch you some water?’ + +She motioned him away with her hand, afraid to trust herself to speak, +and Harland’s attention was attracted by her very silence. + +‘Can _I_ be of any assistance?’ he asked, coming forward; and in her +desperation Iris pulled her hood off her face, and turned to confront +him. She never thought of the sailor’s presence, or that it would +be better to delay speaking to Godfrey until they should be alone +together. She was like a patient, forced sooner or later to undergo a +cruel operation, who puts it off and off, until at some critical moment +he rushes blindly at his fences, lest his courage should again fail him +by delay. As Harland caught sight of her face, he staggered backwards. + +‘Good God!’ he exclaimed; ‘_you_ here? What farce is this, and why have +I been kept in the dark all this while?’ + +‘Yes,’ Iris answered slowly, but with teeth that chattered with +apprehension, ‘_I_ am here, _I, your wife_. And by what right do you +claim to have been told _where_ I was, or for what purpose?’ + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER V. + +FACE TO FACE. + + +At this juncture the sailor, seeing breakers ahead, began to feel +awkward, which he evinced by passing his cap from one hand to the +other, and shuffling his feet about. + +‘Well, missy, as ye’re better now,’ he said, breaking in upon their +conference, ‘I think I’ll make bold to leave ye. Good-morning.’ + +‘No, no!’ cried Iris, with quick alarm, ‘don’t go.’ And then, ashamed +of the inference of her words, she added,--‘Oh, yes! of course, you +have your work to do. I am all right, thank you, and I will stay +with--with--this _gentleman_.’ + +She spoke with so bitter a sarcasm, that as soon as the sailor had +departed, Godfrey Harland seized her arm. + +‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed, ‘what do you mean by speaking like that? +Do you want the whole ship to guess our history?’ + +Iris shook off his grasp as though he had been a viper. + +‘Don’t dare to touch me,’ she said defiantly, ‘or the whole ship +_shall_ hear our history. _You_ know which of us would suffer most in +that case. And don’t imagine I am friendless here. Heaven has sent +protectors to me in my need. I have but to raise my voice, to be +defended against your violence.’ + +‘Another lover, I presume. Who is the happy man?’ asked Harland +sarcastically. + +Iris’s cheeks glowed scarlet. + +‘How _mean_ you are,’ she answered. ‘Your prospective good fortune has +not altered your nature one whit. You still try to find a cover for +your own faults, by the pretence of laying the same blame on others. +You _know_ that I have never encouraged the attentions of any man since +I had the misfortune to receive yours. It would be well if you could +say as much for yourself.’ + +‘I do not understand you,’ said Harland, with affected unconcern. + +‘I can easily make my meaning plain to you,’ replied Iris, as she +looked him steadily in the face. + +Now that the supreme moment had actually arrived, her timidity vanished +as if by magic. She appeared to be inches taller, as she stood before +him, with her feet planted on the deck--every muscle in her body +strained, and her lips firmly pressed upon her teeth. She looked like +some mother about to do battle for her child,--like a martyr ready to +die for her religion. The delicate, fragile girl had become majestic +under the influence of her righteous wrath, and as Harland tried to +meet her flashing eyes, he cowered before their gaze. + +And Iris felt as dauntless as she looked. All the misery of her married +life came back to her in that moment--her husband’s violence and +cruelty--his cowardly attacks upon her honour--the mean way in which he +had intended to desert her--to give her courage. She had the strength +of twenty women as she stood before him, and had he attempted to lay +a hand upon her, she would have struck him across the face. The tones +of his sarcastic voice, ringing with the old insults, had raised her +blood to boiling pitch, and few would have recognised Iris Harland, +sitting in judgment on her recreant husband, with the Miss Douglas +who had looked like a drooping lily in the second cabin, or even with +the tearful Iris who had sat with her hand in Jack Blythe’s the night +before, and told him of the suffering she had passed through. + +Godfrey Harland hardly recognised her himself. He trembled with fear. +All his vaunted courage fled before the woman whom he had wronged, and +left nothing but a sullen brutality behind it. How should he answer the +questions she would put to him? In what possible way excuse himself? He +felt there was nothing to be done, but to try and make peace with her. +‘Peace at any price,’ must be his motto, at all events for the present, +and the future must take care of itself. And so all he answered to her +assertion was,-- + +‘I really don’t know why you should meet me in this extraordinary +manner, as if I had committed some crime in leaving England. You know +that I was _forced_ to leave it. I told you so plainly. What I want to +know is, why _you_ have left it also?’ + +‘I left it to follow your fortunes, as I have a right to do,’ replied +Iris. ‘You thought to evade me,--to leave me to starve in London. You +knew that my pride would not have permitted me to appeal to any of my +friends, but, so long as I was off your hands, you did not care what +became of me.’ + +‘Oh, no, no; come, childie, it was not so bad as that,’ replied +Harland, trying to soothe her. ‘I am going out to New Zealand for your +good, as well as my own, and always intended to send you half of all +that I may be able to earn there.’ + +‘_It is a lie_,’ replied Iris; ‘and don’t you dare to call me by that +name, for I will not stand it. What you intended by going out to New +Zealand was to marry Grace Vansittart, and ignore me altogether. Don’t +take the trouble to deny it, for I know everything. I sat behind you +last night at the theatricals, and heard every word you said to each +other. And now Godfrey Harland, who holds the trump card--you or I?’ + +He did not attempt to answer her, but turned his face towards the open +door, and stood gnawing his moustaches, and wondering how he should +extricate himself from the morass of perplexity in which he was sinking. + +‘You did not give one thought to _me_--left to struggle with poverty as +best I could. Had I remained behind, I might have become anything--a +lost, abandoned woman--God knows! But I have followed you, as you see, +and I am here to claim you as my husband.’ + +‘How did you find out I was travelling by the _Pandora_?’ he asked. +‘Who has been playing the spy upon me?’ + +‘No one but yourself! You are supposed to be a clever man, but cleverer +men than you have been foiled before now by a woman. Did you think I +believed all you told me about your flight to Harfleur, when you bid +me good-bye, and left your Judas kisses on my lips. Why, I had Mr +Vansittart’s letter in my pocket at that very moment, and knew that you +had accepted the offer contained in it.’ + +‘_Mr Vansittart’s letter_,’ stammered Harland. + +‘Yes; the letter which you left behind you when you went to keep the +appointment which sealed your fate and mine. Godfrey, I have followed +you across the Atlantic, not from feelings of affection, but revenge. I +have a right to claim support and recognition at your hands, and if you +refuse to give them me, you must take the consequences.’ + +‘What will you do?’ gasped Harland. + +‘I will expose you before the whole ship’s company. I will let Captain +Robarts, and the Vansittarts, and everybody know _what_ you are, and +_who_ you are--not Mr Godfrey Harland, the gentleman who is not too +proud to work for his living, in order that he may aspire to the hand +of his employer’s daughter; but Godfrey Harland, the married man who +deserted his wife--Godfrey Harland, the gambler and bettor, who had +to fly from his creditors--nay, more than that,’ continued Iris, +waxing louder in her excitement, ‘Godfrey Harland, who is not “Godfrey +Harland” any more than they are, but _Horace Cain, the forger_, who--’ + +‘Stop, stop, for God’s sake!’ he cried, in a hoarse voice, as he +extended a trembling hand towards her mouth. ‘_Stop_, and let me think +for a moment what is best to be done.’ + +‘Ah, Godfrey, _you_ are the one to plead for mercy now!’ she exclaimed +triumphantly, as she watched him wipe away the beads of perspiration +that had started to his brow. + +The violence of the squall still prevented the sailors that were below +from leaving their retreat, and the passengers from coming on deck. +Had it been fine weather, this conspicuous place of meeting, and the +high words that were passing between Harland and his wife, would +certainly have attracted notice; but the howling of the wind, and the +raging of the turbulent sea, were more than sufficient to drown their +conversation. + +‘I suppose that brute Farrell has been talking to you,’ said Godfrey, +when he had somewhat recovered his equanimity; ‘and I have to thank him +for the information you are so ready to believe. But I can tell you, +you have been made a dupe of. The man is a confirmed liar. I met him +before we came on board ship, and gave him a bit of my mind, and he +is trying to revenge himself on me for it now. However, that is _my_ +concern. You can safely leave me to deal with Mr Will Farrell, and +his unauthorised libels. But what am I to do with regard to yourself. +You have chosen to follow me out of England against my wishes, and to +put in your claim to be considered my wife. Suppose,’ he continued, +significantly lashing his legs with an end of rope he had picked up +from the deck, whilst he eyed her with his sinister glance, ‘_suppose_ +I choose to accept the position, and treat you as a husband has a +right to treat a rebellious wife--what then?’ + +‘You _dare_ not,’ she panted. ‘If you attempt to raise your hand +against me in the slightest degree, I will carry out my threats at +once, and appeal to the passengers for help.’ + +‘And what if I wait to punish you for your cursed impudence till we get +on shore.’ + +‘I will have you placed in arrest,’ she answered, ‘as a suspected +forger. Don’t think I have no proofs against you. Farrell has them all +ready, in case of need. If you begin to bluster and bully in your old +fashion, you will find that I have the upper hand, and I mean to keep +it. Remember that in another week we shall be in harbour, and I shall +only have to summon the police to see you carried back to England in +irons.’ + +‘That’s a nice thing for a wife to say to her husband,’ commenced +Harland angrily, and then changing his tone, he continued, ‘Come, you +would never go as far as that, I’m sure. Whatever you may think of me +now, you loved me once, and for the sake of the old times, let us try +and talk reasonably together. Tell me what it is you want, and if I can +agree to your terms, I will.’ + +‘I am your wife,’ replied Iris firmly, ‘and I want my rights--that is, +I want a home kept over my head, and for you to remember that you are +not free to court or marry another woman.’ + +‘But yet you do not care for me yourself,’ he said. + +‘_Care for you!_’ she echoed scornfully. ‘_How_ can I care for a man +who has shown himself to me in so utterly contemptible a light? No, +Godfrey Harland, I hate and despise you. But you shall not ignore what +you are to me for all that. I will not permit you to commit a crime at +my expense.’ + +‘Oh, nonsense!’ he said, in his old _nonchalant_ manner. ‘A +crime is no crime unless it injures somebody. Now what is the use +of you and me keeping together? You say you hate me, and although I +would not be so rude as to use so harsh a term as that to a lady, I +certainly must confess that I am somewhat tired of you. Now, look +here, Iris,’ he continued, drawing closer to her, ‘why shouldn’t we +play into each other’s hands? You can’t have any real jealousy of +me, and I daresay (if the truth were told) there is some nice young +fellow in the background whom you like much better. Promise to leave +me alone, and I’ll make it worth your while to do so. Let me settle +you at Canterbury, and go on quietly with the Vansittarts to their +destination, and carry out my little plans with regard to Grace, and +I’ll engage to remit you a certain sum quarterly, as long as you leave +us in peace. And then you know, my dear, my misconduct will set you +free--morally, if not legally--to marry again yourself, and we shall +both be much the better for the arrangement; and in a new country, no +one need ever be the wiser. What do you say? Is it a bargain?’ + +But Iris’s hazel eyes, wide open with horror and indignation, flashed +fire on him. + +‘Oh, Godfrey,’ she cried, ‘you must be a devil in the shape of man, to +tempt me to such a crime!--to bargain with me for so much a quarter, +not only to keep silence with regard to yourself, but to follow your +example, and sin too. Do you know what it means? Do you know that +you will be a bigamist,--a criminal within the pale of the law,--and +liable to transportation for your offence. Oh, isn’t the other terrible +misdeed bad enough, without your wishing to add to it like this?’ + +‘Don’t whine, or preach,’ he said impatiently. ‘You know how I hate +sermonising and cant. Will you do it, or will you not? That is all I +want to hear from you.’ + +‘No, no, no, a thousand times over. Do you think I am as degraded as +yourself? I will not do it, nor countenance it. I will go straight to +the Vansittarts (as I ought to have done at the beginning) and warn +them against you, as a bad man and a deceiver. You shall not ruin +another woman’s life as you have done mine.’ + +‘I defy you to do it!’ exclaimed Harland, grasping her tightly by the +arm; ‘I will throw you into the water first!’ + +‘Leave go of me at once, or I will call for help. Ah! you do not +frighten me with your threats, you coward! You can wage war with +helpless women, but your face would tell a different tale if a man +rushed in to my assistance. And I tell you that I am determined. I +have made up my mind. If you do not abandon at once and for ever your +infamous intentions with respect to Miss Vansittart, I shall inform +her parents who I am, and why I am here. But I will give you one more +chance. I cannot believe but that, when you have time to think more +calmly, you will see the utter folly of the course you are pursuing. +So I will say nothing until to-morrow. Give me your written word by +then, that you will live as you should do for the future, and my tongue +is silent. And now you know my mind, and can make up your own.’ + +And with that Iris stepped out from the house amidships, and left +Godfrey Harland by himself. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE RENDEZVOUS. + + +He did not stir for some moments after she had disappeared. He was +fearful lest the sailors on deck should suspect there was some +connection between them if they quitted the place together. And his +reflections as he paced to and fro the berth, were anything but +pleasant ones. + +‘How _dared_ she follow me?’ he soliloquised, with rage and anger +gnawing at his heart. ‘She has blighted my last chance, frustrated all +my plans, and now defies me to save myself! Farrell, of course, has +blurted out all that infernal business to her. I suppose that was the +revenge he threatened me with the other night; and she will use it as a +weapon against me. But I will put a stop to her tongue, curse her! She +shall not stand in my way to fortune.’ + +He thought he might venture to leave the spare galley by this time, and +making his way over the wet deck, he walked straight aft to the saloon, +and throwing himself on one of the lounges, called the steward to fetch +him a brandy-and-soda. + +He had never felt so upset in his life as he did from this annoying +interview. It had half maddened him! What on earth could he do or say +to stop the chattering tongue of a jealous and spiteful woman? It would +be as easy, he thought, to dam the falls of Niagara! And it took more +than one brandy to quiet in any degree his shaken and agitated nerves. + +Then he rose and walked, trembling in every limb, to his own cabin, +and, locking the door, threw himself down upon the bed and tried to +think what was best to be done. One thing only seemed clear to him. +If he allowed Iris and Farrell to have their own way, he stood a very +good chance of ending his days as a felon! She had said that Farrell +held the _proofs_ of his forgery! What proofs? Where had he procured +them? What did he retain them for, except to work his ruin? _If_ he +could only get rid of those proofs, he would be safe. But then there +was Iris--his bane and his curse--always ready to reappear and spoil +his chances with Grace Vansittart. She was too virtuous to consent to +go halves with him in obtaining their mutual freedom; but she would +not prove too virtuous, he would bet, to drag him from the quiet and +respectable life he intended to lead, back to poverty, and shame, and +public disgrace! What if he could get rid of them _both_ together! If +he could only induce Iris, on the pretence of following her wishes in +the matter, to bring him the proofs that Farrell held against him, by +night, and then-- + +‘But no,’ he thought, with a visible shudder, as his hands twitched +nervously, ‘I couldn’t--_I couldn’t_! I am in her devilish +clutches,--actually in her power, and there is no way out of it but +one. I must give up Grace, and all my future prospects, and return to +my old life of hopeless impecuniosity. Oh, it is _too_ hard! Why on +earth was I such a fool as to let her discover my intentions? I ought +to be hung, for such a piece of senseless imbecility.’ + +Here he lay for some time in silence, thinking deeply. After a while, +a cold, cruel smile crept over his hard features, as though his +perplexity were solved. + +‘Of course, _the surgery_. Nothing can be easier; and I’ll have those +proofs, if nothing else. I’ll send Iris a model letter, asking her +to meet me to-night in the spare galley, to settle what is best to +be done in the matter; and if I can persuade her to bring the proofs +with her, I’ll take good care she doesn’t take them back again. I’ll +put one witness against me out of the way, at all events, until I have +determined what to do with the other.’ + +After this fashion Godfrey Harland talked to himself, whilst locked up +in his berth; and by the time the dinner-bell rang, he felt too nervous +and excited to trust himself to join the other passengers. + +It was a bleak, cold evening. The sky was blue, and spangled with +bright stars, and every now and then the moon shot forth white darts of +light; but they were frequently obscured by heavy squalls which covered +the heavens, whilst they lasted, with a heavy drapery. + +In the rare intervals, the white sails and masts of the _Pandora_ stood +out in bold relief against the sky, and the crested swells were lit up +with rays of silver. The ultra-marine blue above, with its thousands of +little lamps, contrasted strangely with the sage-green waters; and a +wicked-looking cloud that was rising astern served as a most becoming +background for the sea and air. + +The deck was cast well in shadow when the figure of a man, who had +been standing about for some time in feverish suspense, emerged from +the shade of the companion-ladder, and stole towards the surgery door, +which was between the long saloon passage and the berth of the second +officer. Glancing around more than once, to make sure that no one was +at hand, he pushed back the lock with his clasp-knife, and with a +sudden wrench turning the handle, disappeared from sight, and closed +the door behind him. + +The saloon passengers, as they finished their dinner, rose from table +and donned their overcoats and wraps, with a view to going on deck. + +‘Now, that’s a bargain, doctor!’ laughed Alice Leyton; ‘six pairs of +gloves if the _Pandora_ gets in under three days?’ + +‘Yes, Miss Leyton; and from the very best glover in Canterbury.’ + +‘I take sixes, remember, and never wear less than eight buttons,’ said +Alice. + +‘Don’t count your buttons before we reach the goal,’ replied the doctor +merrily. ‘I think (luckily for me) they are still looming a long way +in the distance; for if we do not get a strong breeze by to-morrow at +latest, Mr Coffin tells me we cannot possibly drop anchor till Sunday. +But if you will excuse me, I will run and get the paregoric lozenges I +promised Miss Vere.’ + +And Dr Lennard disappeared into the passage. + +‘Very strange,’ he muttered to himself, as he turned the handle of the +surgery door. ‘I thought I locked it before dinner. Hullo! hullo! Who’s +that? What are you doing in here?’ + +‘It’s all right, doctor,’ replied Harland, confronting him with rather +a confused countenance; ‘don’t be alarmed. I was sitting smoking on the +weatherboard, and dropped the end of my cigar inside, so I came after +it, in case it might be dangerous.’ + +‘There’s nothing to catch alight here, though, of course, you should +be cautious,’ said the doctor, half suspiciously. ‘By the way, did you +find the door open?’ + +‘Well, _rather_,’ rejoined Harland. ‘You don’t suspect me of keeping +skeleton keys, do you?’ + +‘I don’t suspect anything, but I certainly thought that I had locked +the door when I put the key in my pocket. I must be more careful in +future, or some one will be after my case of medical port.’ + +‘By Jove! yes,’ acquiesced Harland. ‘If any of these thirsty dogs of +shellbacks were knocking about, they’d make short work of a dozen of +port--wouldn’t they? The brutes drink like fishes.’ + +‘They’re not the only people aboard that know how to drink,’ answered +the doctor dryly, with a meaning glance at his companion, who laughed +awkwardly, and turned away to the lee side of the vessel. + +At the same moment, Iris was reading over a letter which she had +received from her husband, to Maggie and Farrell. + +‘Don’t you go,’ pleaded the former; ‘don’t go nigh him, my pretty. He +only wants to try and talk you over; and you’re so soft-hearted, I’m +not sure but what you’ll give in to him.’ + +‘Surely you will not keep this appointment, Miss Douglas,’ urged +Farrell. ‘We have only a few more days to spend on board now, and +during that time, you should avoid him as much as possible. He only +wants, as Maggie says, to persuade you to alter your mind. Write and +tell him that it is made up, and you have nothing more to say to him on +the subject.’ + +‘You both seem to think me terribly weak,’ said Iris, almost irritably. +‘Do you suppose I can’t take care of myself? I told Mr Harland my +intentions plainly, and he quite understands there is no alternative. +All he wishes is to see me again, in order that we may arrange together +how best to carry out our plans. I think that is only reasonable. Did +you listen attentively to his letter? Let me read it to you again:-- + + ‘MY DEAR IRIS,--I have been thinking deeply over what you said to + me this afternoon, and I see you are right, and I must have been + crazy to dream of doing anything else. Can you forgive me? If you + can, it will help me to do my duty for the future, and I promise + you to act on the square. You say that Farrell holds proofs against + me. Were I convinced of this, it would materially alter my plans + for our well-doing. Are they accessible? I should much like to see + them. Try and persuade him to let you have the custody of them for + half-an-hour. I pledge you my word of honour not even to touch them. + How could I do anything repugnant to your wishes, in so public a + place as the spare galley? If you will meet me there to-night at ten + o’clock, when the passengers are at supper, I will tell you what + arrangements I have made for you on landing. It is possible we may be + at Canterbury sooner than you anticipate, and it is best (in order to + save gossip) that we should not leave the ship together. Do not fail + to meet me to-night.--Yours, + G. H.’ + +‘Cant! Humbug!’ exclaimed Farrell. ‘There is some deep scheme hidden +under this pretended repentance. You will be a fool, Miss Douglas, if +you comply with his request.’ + +‘You are both against him,’ said Iris. ‘I know he has a hundred faults, +but he _may_ be sincere in wishing to amend his life. And _I_ am not +the one who should refuse to help him.’ + +And as she spoke, she twisted up the note, and held it in the flame of +the swinging lamp. + +‘What are you doing?’ cried Farrell quickly, as he attempted to rescue +it. + +‘Burning my letter. Have I not a right to burn it?’ returned Iris, in a +tone of annoyance. + +‘Certainly; but I do not consider it a judicious act. It is evidence +against him. Chicanery is written in every line. What should he want to +see those proofs for, except to destroy them?’ + +‘You all suspect him. Because he has sinned _once_, he can do nothing +right in your eyes now,’ said Iris impetuously. ‘And I suppose, Mr +Farrell, if I asked you for those proofs, you would refuse to trust +them to me?’ + +‘I should, indeed; for _your_ sake more than my own. It is of little +consequence to me whether he suffers the penalty of the law or not; but +it is of the utmost importance that he should be kept in fear of it, to +protect your interests.’ + +‘Then I shall go and see him without them, and tell him that you have +no pity,’ replied Iris, as she rose and went to her own cabin. + +‘Will she _really_ go?’ demanded Farrell of Maggie. + +‘I’m much afraid she will, unless I stop her. Ah, Will, she’ll be a +deal too good to him. Them few soft words have melted her like fire +does snow. Sometimes I think I’ll tell her all, and let her see what +a double-dyed rascal he is; but then I couldn’t bear for her to look +coldly on _me_. Lord! how the wind howls. It’s an awful night, ain’t +it? A reg’lar storm. And what’s that? The mistress cryin’! Ah, I must +go to her, poor dear. This business has upset her altogether.’ + +‘Try all you can to persuade her not to see that man again, Maggie.’ + +‘I’ll do my best; but if she’s set on it, she will. But, there, let me +go to her. I’ve a notion in my head I’ll find a way out of it yet.’ + +She rushed to Iris, and found her (as she had anticipated) in +hysterics. The excitement had overtaxed her strength, and Harland’s +apparently repentant note had finished the work. She sobbed and cried +for a long time without control, and then was so exhausted she was +obliged to lie down in her berth. + +‘Now! you’re better,’ said Maggie soothingly; ‘and if you’ll promise to +lie quiet till I come back, I’ll run and get something for you from the +doctor.’ + +‘Oh, no, Maggie! I must get up. It is time to go and meet Godfrey,’ +replied Iris, trying to rise. + +‘I am sure it isn’t. It has only just gone nine. You have a whole hour +yet. Rest a bit, my pretty, and let me get you some camphor, or you +won’t be able to speak to him.’ + +Iris closed her eyes in acquiescence, and Maggie ran off in search of +Dr Lennard. + +‘Doctor,’ she said persuasively, ‘my lady, Miss Douglas, has had the +high-strikes, and I want to get her to sleep at once. Will you mix her +a sleeping-draught, in some camphor, that she can take straight off.’ + +After a few questions, the doctor compounded the soporific, and Maggie +took it back to the cabin and made Iris swallow it. In a few minutes +her sobs relaxed, her eyes closed, her hands folded themselves over her +heaving breast, and she was asleep. Maggie drew the blankets closely +over her, and sat by her side until she was fairly off. + +‘_That’s_ right,’ she thought, chuckling to herself; ‘that was very +neatly done. She’ll sleep sound, poor dear, till it’s ten o’clock +to-morrow morning. And now, shall I tell Will what I am going to do? I +think not. He’ll want to interfere, and spoil everything. I can manage +matters much better by myself. I will go and meet Mr Harland, and find +out what he really means to do; and I can pretend I’ve got the papers, +until he’s told me all his mind, and then I can discover I’ve left ’em +below stairs after all. But I mustn’t let him guess as it’s me until +I know his plans for the mistress, or he won’t tell ’em. Let me see! +How can I disguise myself?’ looking round the cabin. ‘Ah! there’s my +pretty’s cloak, and the black worsted wrap; and I can put a veil over +my face, and say I was afraid of being recognised by the saloon people. +And now I must hoodwink Will. Lord, what a trouble all these men are! +You can’t do nothing with them without lying all round.’ + +A moment later she was in the general cabin. + +‘She’s gone off nicely,’ she whispered to Farrell. ‘I got a draught for +her from the doctor, mixed up in camphor, and she took it like a lamb +and was asleep in five minutes. And I guess Mr Harland will have to +wait a long time in the spare galley before he bullies her to-night, +poor dear.’ + +‘Well, you _are_ a clever girl,’ said Will admiringly; ‘you’ll be the +smartest wife for miles round when you and I are married, Maggie.’ + +‘Well, mind you make me a husband to match, then,’ she answered, +laughing. ‘But I’ll go to bed myself now, Will, for I’m reg’lar tired. +I think the wind makes one sleepy.’ + +‘All right! I’m just off for a game at cards with Perry. Good-night, my +dear!’ + +Maggie whisked away, with the cloak and shawl thrown over her arm, and +at ten o’clock she issued from the steerage so completely enveloped +in them that no casual observer could have said if it were she or her +mistress. The night was pitchy dark. Nothing could be seen all round +the vessel but the boiling foam, flashing with sparkling diamonds +of spray, that rushed in seething suds from the vessel’s bows. To +watch the _Pandora_ at this moment from her topgallant forecastle +was a glorious sight. The bank of snowy lather that was dispersed +on either side to make way for her keel, tossed and rolled over in +impotent fury; the plunges of the ship’s cutwater, that often dipped +her harpoon-shaped martingale deep into the sea; the angry waves +that dashed against her figurehead, and the breakers that leaped +fitfully against her sides, as if they panted to drag her down to the +unfathomable deep, composed a scene of majesty and awe. The sailors +knew that they might expect a stiff gale. Mr Coffin had stowed all her +smaller sails, shortening her down to topsails, and clad in his long +weather coat awaited the coming storm. + +The freshening wind hummed in the rigging, and made the loose ropes +beat against the backstays. With a long stretch the _Pandora_ careened +over on her side, and set off at a swinging pace on her course. + +The sailors on watch, considering they had done enough work for that +evening, and knowing there would be plenty for them by-and-by, had +turned into the forecastle to put on their oilskins. Only the ‘wheel’ +and the ‘look-out’ were on deck, and the darkness made even them +invisible, as Maggie Greet, disguised in Iris’s long mantle, entered +the open door on the leeward of the spare galley. Godfrey Harland was +already there, and moved a few steps towards her. + +‘I felt sure you would see the wisdom of meeting me,’ he said; ‘we will +soon set this matter right now. Come from the open door and stand +nearer this way; there will be the less chance of what we say to each +other being overheard.’ + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE MURDER. + + +Maggie did as he desired her, in silence, and the two stood close +together in the seclusion of the spare galley. The wind roared and +howled outside, and lashed the waves into a murderous fury against the +proud ship that dared to plough her way through them, but Harland spoke +in low, incisive tones, and every word he uttered was audible to his +companion. + +‘I have been thinking over what you said to me this morning,’ he +commenced, ‘and I felt it was quite necessary we should see each other +again. The fact is, you took me so completely aback by your unexpected +appearance and your vehement accusations, that I really did not know +what to say to you. But you are utterly mistaken in thinking I have +any _real_ intention to marry Miss Vansittart. How _can_ I have, when +I am married to you? The thing is too silly to be refuted. You say you +overheard me talking a lot of nonsense to her last night. I acknowledge +I did. The girl has taken an inordinate fancy for me, and I don’t quite +see my way out of it; and so--well you know what we men are,--bad hats, +the very best of us, when there is no one by to keep us straight,--but +I never meant anything serious by it, upon my word of honour. Don’t you +believe me?’ + +‘Yes,’ replied Maggie, in the lowest of whispers. + +‘You needn’t be in the least afraid of our being overheard. It would +take a speaking-trumpet to make one’s self understood through this +gale. However, what I want to explain to you, Iris, is, that my +worst fault has been in concealing the fact of your existence from +the Vansittarts. _He_ made it a proviso that his agent should be an +unmarried man, and as I did not intend to take you out with me, I +thought there was no harm in holding my tongue on the subject, at all +events until I had made myself indispensable to him. And the deception +has entangled me in a dilemma, as deceptions generally do. But the +idea of my marrying Miss Vansittart is too utterly ridiculous. I have +let her talk as she pleased about it, and I have “chaffed” her back in +return, but she knows, as well as I do, that it can never be. Do you +understand?’ + +‘Yes,’ repeated Maggie, in the same tone. + +‘Well, as that affair is settled, I’ll tell you what I think will be +best to do for both of us. I can’t afford to give up this appointment +(it’s six hundred a year, and will be raised by-and-by), and I should +not be able to support you if I did. So you must let me settle you +quietly at Canterbury in some respectable boarding-house, where you +will have society, and I will send you remittances monthly until it +is safe for you to join me again. It won’t be long first. Of course, +since you are in the country, it will be to my advantage to have you +with me, and I shall seize the very first opportunity to confess the +truth to Mr Vansittart, and ask his pardon for not having informed him +of my marriage from the first. I don’t think he will be hard upon me, +especially as he sees his daughter has taken a fancy to me, and is +anxious to put a stop to it. For, of course, I should never have been a +suitable match for her, even if I had been free. He will require money +with any suitor for her hand. Are you quite satisfied now?’ + +Again Maggie answered only by a monosyllable, and her reticence aroused +Harland’s suspicions. + +‘What the deuce is the matter with you, that you can’t speak?’ he said, +irritably. ‘Are you trying some game on me? I warn you not, for I won’t +stand it. Now, look here. I can’t do as I have told you, unless I feel +that I am free from that brute Farrell. It’s of no use my trying to +make a position for myself in a new world, if he has the power to come +forward whenever it pleases him, and denounce me as a criminal. You say +he holds certain written proofs against me. Is this really the case? +Have you spoken to him about them? Have you got them with you?’ + +‘Yes,’ she said again. + +‘Let me see them,’ replied Harland quickly; and as he spoke he struck +a match against the heel of his boot, and held it on a level with her +face. + +The sickly blue flame flared up for a moment, and revealed the +features of Maggie Greet. + +‘_Maggie!_ by all that’s holy!’ exclaimed Harland, starting backwards. +‘What do you mean by playing this trick upon me? Why was I not told of +this before?’ + +‘Told of _what_ before?’ + +‘That you were on board ship, in company with my wife. That I had been +tracked by a couple of you--confound you both!’ + +‘Oh, yes! I daresay you’d like to confound us both, very much. You’ve +tried your best to do it already, Mr Harland, but you ain’t clever +enough. That’s where the fault lies, you see!’ cried Maggie unabashed. +‘And now, what may you have to say to Mrs Harland, as you can’t say to +me?’ + +‘Be quiet, you baggage!’ returned Godfrey angrily, ‘and go back to your +berth. My business lies with your mistress, and not with you.’ + +‘Oh! well, then, you won’t see my mistress, and so you may do as best +you can without her. She has friends on board as won’t consent to her +being handed over, without protection, to the clutches of a brute like +you; and so if you have any message for her, you can send it through +me.’ + +‘Go to the d--l!’ cried Harland, turning on his heel. ‘I shall not stay +here a minute longer.’ + +‘Not even to get them papers?’ + +‘What do _you_ know about the papers?’ + +‘As much as yourself, I fancy, and p’r’aps more. You asked me just now +if I’d got ’em, and I said “_yes_;” but if they’re no use to you, I may +as well carry them back again.’ + +‘From whom did you get them?’ demanded Harland, retracing his steps. +‘From that brute Farrell?’ + +‘Don’t you call better men than yourself names,’ retorted Maggie +sharply. ‘Farrell’s worth fifty of you, any day. Yes, I did get them +from him. Who else?’ + +‘Your mistress showed you my letter, then?’ + +‘Yes, she did, and a pack of lies it was, into the bargain.’ + +‘Take care how you insult me!’ cried Harland. + +‘Look here, Godfrey Harland,’ said Maggie, ‘don’t you try any nonsense +on me, for I’ll soon bring you to your marrow-bones. Will Farrell’s +papers is _my_ papers. Do you understand now? He is going to marry me +as soon as we land in New Zealand, and there’ll be _two_ against you +then, instead of one. What do you say to that?’ + +‘He’s welcome to my leavings: they’re good enough for him,’ returned +the man ironically. + +Maggie’s hot blood rose to fever heat. + +‘Oh, you blackguard,--you black-hearted villain!’ she exclaimed. +‘_This_ is the reward a woman gets for letting herself be trampled on +by men. You _know_ I was innocent enough when I first came to you. I +was a poor, ignorant, country girl, as hardly knew right from wrong, +and you left your sweet young wife, who’d never done you an unkindness, +to stoop to teach me how to sin. Lord forgive me!’ cried poor Maggie, +with a choking sob in her throat, ‘for I’ve never forgiven myself. Many +and many’s the time I’d have run away and drowned myself, for I didn’t +feel fit to live, except for _her_. But she wanted me, and I hadn’t +the heart to leave her alone with you. _I_ knew how cruel and wicked +you could be, when the first fancy had died out of you, and that you +weren’t fit to have the care of any woman. Oh, how cruel and false you +have been to her, and made me be too! Oh, my poor mistress! If I could +die to make her happy, I would. But nobody can be happy as has to do +with _you_.’ + +‘You’re pleased to be complimentary,’ sneered Harland. + +‘I speak the truth, master, and you know it. You know you’ve been +her ruin, as well as mine. I’m only a poor girl, and don’t signify +p’r’aps so much. But _her_, so delicate and high-bred--sich a lady as +she is, from head to foot. You ought to be hung for what you’ve done +to _her_. Do you think _I_ believe all your palaver about not marrying +Miss Vansittart? Not I. _She_ might have, poor dear, but _I_ know you +better. It was all put on to deceive her, and get hold of the papers. +You’d have settled her in Canterbury, yes! and then she’d never have +heard of you, or your money, again. Don’t I know the liar you are?’ + +‘Have you got those papers?’ demanded Harland fiercely. ‘I suppose +they’re for sale. What’s their price?’ + +‘Oh, yes, they’re for sale--never fear; but I doubt if _you_ can buy +them. They’re going in exchange for my mistress being acknowledged +openly as your wife, and placed in her proper position, and treated +with kindness for the future, and _then_, p’r’aps, Will and I may talk +about letting you have the papers.’ + +‘D--n Will and you!’ exclaimed Harland, as his eyes gleamed with hate +and fury on her. + +‘Will and I are much more likely to do that for _you_, Mr Harland. We +have neither of us much cause to love you. You have ruined both our +lives,--robbed us of our good names, and left a nasty stain behind you +which nothing will wipe out. I don’t think we owe you much--unless it +is revenge. And we’ll have our revenge, never fear, unless you buy us +off. Do your duty by the mistress, plain and above-board, or we’ll take +good care you don’t work mischief to any one else. It wouldn’t take +many words from us to get you locked up, and that’s what we mean to do, +both on us, as sure as your name’s Godfrey Harland.’ + +‘You _do_--do you?’ replied Harland, with clenched hands and teeth. + +He had made up his mind how to act whilst she was speaking. The dose +he had obtained for Iris would do just as well for Maggie, and he +pressed closer to her with it in his hand. She, foreseeing meditated +violence in his action, raised her fist and struck him in the face, +then turned and rushed out of the spare galley on to the darkness of +the quarter-deck. It was still deserted, the passengers were in the +saloon, the seamen in the forecastle, and the howling of the gale +permitted only itself to be heard. As Maggie tried to stem her way +against the driving wind, which seemed to push her backwards with every +step, she stumbled against the steam-winch, and in another moment +Harland had caught and held her from behind. + +A murderous hand was placed upon her throat, a handkerchief, which +exhaled a sickly, sweet, intoxicating fume, was pressed tightly over +her mouth and nostrils, and her body was held by his against the main +rail. She could not move; she could not scream; she could not even +think. For a moment she struggled feebly, and clutched with her dying +grasp at Harland’s garment. But the next, all things seemed growing +dim--the memory of her wrongs--the fear for her safety--even the +knowledge of the presence of Death faded from her as the fumes of the +chloroform mounted to her very brain, and her breath came in gasps, +which grew shorter and shorter until they ceased altogether. Then her +body was lifted quickly in strong arms from the deck, and thrust over +the mainrail, and it hit the bumpkin with a dull thud, as it dropped +silently into the seething deep. + +It plunged beneath the surface and rose again, and the _Pandora_ passed +ahead of it, scattering banks of white foam in her wake, like a sea +shroud for the dying. For in that moment Maggie Greet’s senses had +returned to her. She felt the icy water flowing over her head, and into +her ears and mouth. + +Oh, what was this? What had happened to her? + +‘Is it some awful dream? Where am I? Who put me here? Oh, Will, Will, +save me!’ But the wind roared to prevent all chance of her feeble cry +being overheard, and the merciless waves flowed over her head again, +and sucked her body down. ‘Oh, to die like this! My poor mistress! God +in heaven! forgive me.’ + +Again her body disappeared, and after an agonising struggle for life, +poor Maggie rose once more, feebly murmuring, ‘I forgive--forgive,’ and +then sunk beneath the waves for ever. + + * * * * * + +Meanwhile, Godfrey Harland leant against the mainrail, sick and dizzy +with horror at the deed which he had done, and staring with blank eyes +at the boiling sea, in which the girl he had ruined had disappeared. +The handkerchief he had pressed against her nose and mouth, reeking +with chloroform, was still held in his hand. In his confusion, he did +not even know that it was there. He had never meant to go so far as +this. He had prepared the chloroform to use in case of his experiencing +any trouble in getting the papers into his possession, but when he saw +Maggie so completely unconscious, and realised the danger of being +caught in the act of searching her body, it seemed so much easier to +throw her overboard, and get rid of her dangerous tongue and the proofs +of his forgery at the same time. And now it was over, and there was +no help for it. He gazed at the boiling foam as it dashed past the +vessel, in a vacant manner, as though he half expected Maggie’s face +to rise from it and confront him, Maggie who was already miles away, +drifting without sense or motion in the under-current of the sea. And +as he gazed, strange to say, Godfrey Harland did not think of her as he +had seen her last, but as she had been when they first met--a pretty +country girl, all faith in him and eagerness to obey his will--and his +limbs shook under him as he remembered it. + +‘Hullo! Harland! what are you doing here? It’s a rough night for +musing,’ shouted a voice behind him. ‘We’re going to the smoke-room! +Come along and spin us a yarn! The ladies have beat a retreat, and +there’s not much to be done below.’ + +Godfrey Harland turned round to confront Captain Lovell and the doctor. + +‘All right,’ he said unsteadily. ‘I’ll go with you. It’s the beastliest +night we’ve had for a long time.’ + +As the three men ensconced themselves in the smoke-room, and took their +seats, Dr Lennard snuffed the air. + +‘Who’s got chloroform?’ he asked curiously. Lovell looked amused, and +Harland started. ‘Why, it’s _you_!’ continued the doctor. ‘It’s on your +handkerchief.’ + +‘Oh, yes,’ he stammered; ‘chloroform, of course. I’ve been using it +for a toothache. It generally does me good.’ + +‘Have you a toothache now?’ + +‘No, it’s gone!’ replied Harland, with an unquiet look round the cabin. + +‘Well! stow your handkerchief away, for goodness’ sake, for it’s too +strong to be agreeable. I hate the smell of chloroform. It recalls +unpleasant operations to me. You must have a sound heart, to be able to +inhale it at that rate. I should think you must have had enough to kill +two people on that handkerchief.’ + +And with a ghastly grin, that was intended for a smile, Harland thrust +it deep into the pocket of his coat. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MISSING. + + +The threatening aspect which the heavens had assumed, turned out to +be nothing more after all than a violent squall, which caused the +_Pandora_ to fly along at her topmost speed for a few hours, and then +died away as quickly as it had sprung up, leaving a calm behind it. +The wet sails beat with loud flaps against the masts in time to the +roll of the vessel; the sheets and tacks were limp and slack; and the +weather shrouds, which had made their lanyards and dead-eyes creak and +groan, could be shaken with the hand--whilst the fine old ship, which +had behaved so gallantly under her widespread canvas, lay like a log on +the ocean, and refused even to steer. The wheel was jammed hard down, +sheets flattened, and everything done to help her, but it was of no +avail. All the coaxing of her officers would not induce her to behave +like a lady, and she drifted along idly, with her nose heading every +point except the one she was wanted to follow. The _Pandora_ was a true +woman that night--wilful and headstrong, and refusing all assistance. +She declined to answer her rudder--even the head-sails had no control +over her--and her mizen had to be hauled up, since it only made her +the more perverse and cantankerous. When all the sailors’ efforts had +failed, and they had given her up--at all events, for the present--as +a hopeless job, a massive sheet of cloud appeared in the eastward. It +was like its predecessor in shape and consistency, but of a brighter +shade--a greyish, half-mourning hue--and as it crept slowly towards +them, like the mighty simoom of the Desert of Sahara, it shut out the +surrounding scene from view. The moon and stars that were reflected on +the still waters were soon enveloped in its dingy mantle, and before +daybreak, the _Pandora_ was hidden by a raw, penetrating mist. + +It was a wintry fog, that carried on its breath the seeds of sickness +and mortality; that made itself felt through the thickest garments, +and attacked the joints with stiffness and cramp; that made the night +humid, close, and unhealthy, and the day dark and cheerless; that +compelled the stewards to screw down the port-holes, lest the vapour +should fill their only refuge with its disease-inspiring breath; that +mildewed the dry provisions, and rotted the vegetables that hung in the +long-boat, and transformed the warm grasp of the friend of your bosom +into a cold and clammy touch. When the passengers essayed to make +their toilets, they had to light their lamps, and discovered that their +glasses were dim, and their clothes damp with moisture; nor could the +pleasures of the breakfast-table send a glow through their benumbed +bodies, nor restore the geniality of their tempers. + +Captain Robarts, who has not as yet figured prominently in this +history, simply because he never sought the society of his passengers, +or concerned himself about their comforts, was that day more bearish +and blunt (if possible) than usual. He was anxious about their safety. +He was not quite certain as to their exact position on the chart, and +he saw that he would have to work the vessel out by dead reckoning, +instead of the surer method of ascertaining his longitude by the +meridian altitude. He felt sure that he was not many miles from the +coast, but if he had been able to shoot the sun, his mind would have +been more at ease, and he would not have retreated to his private +cabin, and, after irritably slamming the door, have solaced himself +with so many ‘nips’ from a mysterious flask which he kept in a cupboard +at the head of his bunk. + +‘A gentleman from the second cabin wishes to speak to you, sir,’ said +the steward, after knocking several times for admittance. + +Captain Robarts opened his cabin door and beckoned the man to enter, +much to the disappointment of several curious listeners, who had hoped +to hear all about the wants of the gentleman from the second cabin. A +few minutes afterwards the chief steward left the saloon, and returned, +accompanied by Will Farrell, who was ushered in to the presence of the +captain. + +‘Morning, sir,’ said Captain Robarts. ‘I understand you have a +communication to make to me. I am ready to hear it.’ + +Will Farrell stood before him, white and trembling, hardly knowing how +to begin. At last he stammered out that it was ‘very serious.’ + +‘Well, well, sir! I can’t afford to waste my time over you. Let me know +it, if you please,’ replied the captain impatiently. + +‘One of the steerage passengers--a woman--is missing, sir!’ said +Farrell, in a trembling voice. + +‘Indeed; and how did you find it out?’ + +‘She--she--was my friend, sir--we were to have married each other, and +she was quite safe last night at nine o’clock, because I spoke to her, +and bid her “good-night.” But this morning she’s missing. No one’s seen +her, and the steward says she didn’t sleep in her bunk last night.’ + +‘And why did not the steward, whose duty it is, inform me of this +himself?’ + +This question took poor Will Farrell completely aback. He had come in +his grief and trouble to consult the chief person in the ship, but the +terrible news he conveyed did not seem to move the hard, unfeeling +heart of the man before him one whit. The steerage steward was an +uncouth being, working his passage out to New Zealand, and Farrell had +begged leave of him to go and inform the skipper that Maggie Greet was +missing. But he had not expected so cold a reception. He had thought +the captain would immediately employ every available means to discover +the whereabouts of his passenger,--that the ship would be thoroughly +searched from hold to galley, and that if the mystery were not solved +by it, a meeting would be at once convened to inquire into the cause of +Maggie’s disappearance. + +When Captain Robarts saw that Farrell preserved silence, he continued,-- + +‘What is the woman’s name?’ + +‘Greet, sir, Maggie Greet,’ was the answer, given in a choking voice. + +‘Very good! That’ll do! The matter shall be investigated,’ and rising +from his seat, the old sea-dog opened the door, and showed his visitor +the way out. + +It was not long after that Mr Sparkes was sent for, and ordered to +report, as quickly as possible, on the particulars of the case, and +enter a full description of the woman, with that of her friends, and +when and where she was last seen, with all _et ceteras_ in his day-book +for the benefit of the skipper, who would have to jot it down in his +official log. That Maggie Greet had been only a steerage passenger, +rendered her disappearance of far less consequence than if she had +belonged to the saloon; still Captain Robarts thought it worth while +to consult Mr Fowler on the subject, and that worthy was consequently +summoned to a private interview in his cabin. + +‘What is it all about?’ cried the passengers _en masse_, as Sparkes +delivered the skipper’s message. + +‘Only a steerage female passenger missing,’ replied the young officer +airily. + +‘_Only_,’ repeated Mr Fowler; ‘only the chance of death for somebody.’ + +‘But does nobody know where she has gone?’ asked Alice Leyton stupidly. + +‘No! or we shouldn’t be looking for her. Stumbled overboard, perhaps, +in the squall. It was a roughish night. Mr Fowler, the captain would +like to speak to you about it at once.’ + +‘All right; I will go to him,’ and he went. + +The captain had soon repeated all he had been able to gather of the +case. + +‘You’d better leave it to me,’ said Fowler; ‘it’s either an accident or +foul play, and in either case I’ll keep my eyes open, and see what I +can make of it.’ + +‘There’s no suspicion whatever of foul play. The young man Farrell, who +was to marry the girl, says she was safe at nine last night, and left +him to go to her berth, but has not been seen since.’ + +‘And how does he account for himself since that time?’ + +‘Why, you don’t suspect _him_, surely,’ said the captain; ‘he is simply +overcome with grief.’ + +‘Yes; I have seen them overcome with grief before. Never mind, +captain. I have my suspicions of more than one person aboard this +vessel, and perhaps this little accident may be the wind-up of it all. +I’ll make things clear, if possible, before we touch port.’ + +‘How will you set to work?’ + +‘By putting two and two together. This young woman was rather strange +in her ways, you know, captain.’ + +‘Was she? I didn’t know her, even by sight.’ + +‘There were two of them, and they were always with this man Farrell, +and always wrapped up in shawls, so that their faces couldn’t be seen. +They never came out till the evening, either, and then they’d slink +away towards the forecastle. All they seemed to wish was to avoid their +fellow-creatures.’ + +‘Perhaps it was some family trouble.’ + +‘Perhaps it was, and it’ll prove a case of _felo de se_. Though she was +as sturdy a damsel (this one that’s missing) as ever I saw, and not at +all like a romantic suicide. But one never knows what they’ll do, if +there’s a man in the case. I remember an affair something like this one +taking place in the _Wangarrie_, bound for Auckland. There was a lady +of title on board, who had been confined to her berth for some days. +Well, the stewardess had not left her above five minutes one afternoon +when she was gone. She crawled out of one of the square stern windows +in her _robe de nuit_, and dropped into the briny.’ + +‘But this woman could not have gone out of the ports.’ + +‘No, I suppose they’re too small in the ’tween decks. I’ll go down +there in the dog watch, and take a look round. But she may have jumped +overboard during the squall, and no one have been the wiser; or she may +have been _pushed_ over.’ + +‘You can’t get the idea that it was intentional out of your head, Mr +Fowler.’ + +‘No, sir; and sha’n’t, either, until I prove it to have been otherwise. +For, as I said before, I haven’t been sleeping on the voyage, and I +have my suspicions. But I’ll clear out now, captain; I see you are +busy with your chart,’ and with a curt nod, Mr Fowler went about his +business. + +Before noon every soul on board the _Pandora_ had heard and discussed +the terrible news, but all were equally at a loss to account for it. +Some agreed with Mr Fowler that poor Maggie must have been a little +insane. Others suspected (though they dared not say so) the unfortunate +Farrell, who (with Iris Harland) was overcome with grief for Maggie’s +loss, and believed his tears were only shed to avert suspicion from +himself. Godfrey Harland was forced to mix with his fellow-passengers, +and hear all their comments on the subject, for he dreaded doing +anything unusual so as to attract the general notice. He was very +active, therefore, in arguing the point, and suggesting possible +solutions of the mystery, though he stuck faithfully himself to one +opinion, that _if_ the unhappy girl had had a lover, _he_ was the +person who should know most about it. + +In every part of the vessel the unfortunate accident was commented on. +In the forecastle, the galley, and the house amidships; in the second +cabin, the smoke-room, and on the poop deck it formed the sole topic of +conversation. + +The wretched Farrell, with eyes bleared and swollen from weeping, was +bowed down under a sense of his loss. It was in vain that Iris implored +him to take courage, to bear his trouble like a man, to remember how +brave poor dear Maggie was, and how she would have been the first to +condemn his utter prostration of mind and body. There was a deeper +grief than the loss of his promised wife underlying his condition. Both +his suspicions, and those of Iris, pointed to Godfrey Harland, though +they feared to say so, even to each other. Maggie had purposely sent +Iris to sleep, and Farrell remembered afterwards that she had carried +her mistress’s missing cloak and shawl upon her arm. What had she taken +them for, unless she intended to go on deck, and why should she go on +deck but to meet Harland, instead of his wife? The case seemed clear to +both of them, and yet they were so helpless to take their revenge. They +did not even know where she had gone to, or if Harland had kept the +appointment he made with his wife. Farrell would neither eat nor drink. +His dinner and tea were carried away untouched, while he sat in his +berth with his face buried in his hands, trying to find some solution +to the awful mystery. + +As the night watches were set, he was roused from the stupor into which +he had fallen, by the advent of Mr Fowler, who, having tapped at his +door, entered without further ceremony. + +‘Come, come, Farrell!’ he commenced kindly, as he laid his hand upon +the young man’s shoulder, ‘you mustn’t give way like this. Let me +send for some liquor for you. Here, steward! bring Mr Farrell a +brandy-and-soda,’ and when it came he forced Will to drink it. + +‘It is very kind of you, Mr Fowler, to take the trouble to come and +visit me,’ Will said, as he tried to stop his gasping sobs. ‘Few have +done it, except Miss Douglas. I daresay you are surprised at my being +so overcome by this loss; but it was so sudden--so unexpected--we were +so full of hope and anticipation that--’ + +‘Yes, yes, my boy! I quite understand,’ replied Fowler. ‘It was very +dreadful--very dreadful, indeed. But have you any idea how it happened?’ + +‘Not the slightest--at least, no certainty. The last time I saw her I +was sitting down here, playing cards with my friend Perry, and she told +me the wind had made her sleepy, and she should go to bed. I wished her +good-night, and that was the last of it.’ + +‘She was a steerage passenger, I understand. How came she to be in the +second cabin?’ + +‘Well, sir, there’s a lady here, Miss Douglas, who was a friend of +hers. Maggie was--well, I don’t know why I should mind saying it--but +my poor girl was in her service in England, and followed her across +the sea, and used to come in here and look after her sometimes. Miss +Douglas was ill last night, and Maggie had given her a sleeping-draught +and put her to bed.’ + +‘Pardon the digression, Mr Farrell, but what made Miss Douglas ill?’ + +Will Farrell’s eyes flashed. He would have blurted out the whole truth +concerning Godfrey Harland to all the ship at that moment. Only one +motive restrained him--the thought of Iris. But he clenched his fist as +he answered,-- + +‘A scoundrel had been talking to her and upsetting the poor thing. She +isn’t strong.’ + +‘And this scoundrel--excuse me--is also an enemy of yours, Mr Farrell?’ + +‘I didn’t say so, Mr Fowler.’ + +‘No, but I guessed it from the clenching of your hand as you mentioned +him. And now let me tell you that I strongly suspect there is foul play +somewhere, and I want you to assist me in clearing it up.’ + +‘I suspect it too, sir--more, I _believe_ it, only I can’t give a +reason why. But if I tell you my suspicions, _how_ can you clear the +matter up?’ + +‘Because my name of Fowler is assumed for professional purposes only. +My real title is Mark Rendle, of Scotland Yard, and if things are not +all square here, and _you_ will help me, I will bring the murderer to +justice.’ + +‘I’m your man!’ cried Farrell, as he stretched out his hand. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER IX. + +MR FOWLER. + + +‘I suppose you are a detective?’ continued Farrell, after a pause. + +‘You are right. I am a private detective, but no one knows the secret +but Captain Robarts and yourself, and I should not have confided it to +you, except I feel that, for your own sake, you will keep it sacred. +And now look here, my boy. I am a man old enough to be your father, +and I have had much experience in these cases, with which I have been +mixed up all my life. If we are to work together, you must tell me _the +truth_. You must hide nothing from me; and you must give me your word +of honour not to disclose a single thing that I may say to you.’ + +‘I swear to you that I will not. But first tell me, Mr Fowler, have you +come out to track any one aboard this vessel?’ + +‘No. I am travelling in the interests of Messrs Stern & Stales, +whose New Zealand firm has suffered lately from extensive robberies, +instigated, it is believed, by the _employés_. The company sent me over +in the _Pandora_ to avoid suspicion. If I crossed in a steamer, certain +business people, who are always going backwards and forwards through +the Canal to Australia and New Zealand, might recognise me, and the +news of my arrival would be spread through the island, and warn the +thieves to be on their guard. Now let me hear all you have to tell me.’ + +Will Farrell then related in detail all that he knew of Horace Cain +_alias_ Godfrey Harland. He gave the whole history of the forged +cheque, and the clever way in which the suspicion had been cast upon +himself. He told how he had made the acquaintance of Maggie Greet on +board ship, and learned through her that her mistress, Miss Douglas, +was in reality Harland’s wife, and how Godfrey’s open courtship of +Miss Vansittart had induced Iris to reveal her identity to him, and to +threaten to expose him. And he concluded with the incident of Harland’s +letter to his wife, demanding another interview at ten o’clock that +night in the spare galley, and entreating her to bring the proofs that +Farrell held against him, for him to see. + +‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Fowler impatiently; ‘that is a dirty story +enough, but what has it to do with Maggie Greet? I want to hear about +_her_, and not Mr and Mrs Harland.’ + +There was one thing which Farrell had concealed, and that was the fact +of Maggie’s seduction by her master. He felt as if death itself could +not drag it from him,--as if it would be an insult to the dead woman +he had loved even to allude to it. But he had a detective to deal with. + +‘She was in their service when in England--I have mentioned that,’ +replied Farrell confusedly; ‘and she was very much attached to Miss +Douglas. It was all Maggie’s doing that she didn’t go to that interview +with her husband. She meant to do so, but Maggie was afraid of mischief +(she told me so), so she procured a draught from Dr Lennard, and sent +Miss Douglas straight off to sleep, under pretence of soothing her +hysterical condition.’ + +‘Very good. What did Miss Greet do then?’ + +‘She came up to my side in the second cabin, and said, after telling me +about Miss Douglas, “I’ll go to bed now, Will, for I’m regular tired. I +think the wind makes one sleepy.”’ + +‘And did she go to bed?’ + +‘How can I tell, sir? I never saw her again. But the steerage steward +says she didn’t.’ + +‘Now, just think, Mr Farrell. Did you remark anything strange about her +manner when she bade you good-night?’ + +‘Not at the time, or I should have spoken of it. But after she was +missing, Miss Douglas told me that her big cloak that she always wore, +and woollen wrap, were also gone from her cabin, and then I seemed to +remember, like a flash of lightning, that Maggie had a bundle of cloaks +or something over her arm when she spoke to me.’ + +‘And you think she took them on purpose?’ + +‘Yes. I think now she took them that she might look like her mistress, +and that she went on deck to take her place, and keep that appointment +with Godfrey Harland--_curse him_!’ said Farrell, between his teeth. + +‘This becomes interesting,’ remarked the detective coolly. ‘But now, +Mr Farrell, the question arises, What reason Miss Greet should have +had to wish to prevent her mistress meeting Mr Harland?’ + +‘She believed harm would come of it. He had treated his wife cruelly +before.’ + +‘She had not a good opinion of her master, then? She did not like him?’ + +Farrell answered curtly in the negative. + +‘Do you know if Miss Greet had any cause to mistrust him?’ + +‘She knew he was a brute, and I had told her about the forgery.’ + +‘But _personally_, I mean? Was there any feeling like jealousy or +revenge at work in the matter?’ + +‘Not jealousy, certainly,’ answered Will. ‘She was going to marry +me--she was fond of me.’ + +‘But formerly--before you met the girl--had there ever been any +love-passages between her and this Godfrey Harland?’ + +Farrell opened his eyes in amazement. + +‘Are you a wizard?’ he asked. + +‘No, my boy, only a detective! But that means a close observer of +human nature, and an aptitude for hitting on the right cause for every +effect.’ + +Will was silent. + +‘Come, now! I appreciate your reticence, but this is no time for false +modesty. Doubtless Miss Greet told you all her secrets. Had she any +reason to wish to be revenged on Harland, or he for getting rid of her? +If you won’t tell me the whole truth, I can do nothing for you.’ + +‘All right, sir! I _will_ trust you, for it can’t do _her_ any harm +now, and it may be the means of avenging this cruel loss. She _had_ +good cause to hate him, poor thing, and he, perhaps, to be afraid of +her! He had seduced her years before, when she first went to live in +his wife’s service, and Maggie despised him for it,--as well she might, +and all the more because she had grown to be so fond of Miss Douglas. +That’s the truth, Mr Fowler, and I hope you’ll keep it sacred.’ + +‘You may depend upon me, Farrell, and it’s a valuable clue. We have +arrived at this conclusion, therefore: At the time that Mr Harland was +waiting to see his wife in the spare galley, she was asleep in her +berth, and Maggie Greet, with her mistress’s cloak and wraps over her +arm, walked out of the cabin, and was never seen again. She was a woman +also who mistrusted her master, and had an old grudge against him, and +whose desire for revenge, too, might prove very awkward to himself. +That is true, is it not?’ + +‘It is so, Mr Fowler; and every moment the case seems to become clearer +to me.’ + +‘Now, Mr Farrell, do you really hold the proofs you have mentioned +against Mr Harland?’ + +‘Yes; I have certain letters written, and copies of statements made, at +the time of the forgery, which would go very hardly against him were I +to produce them.’ + +‘And did you lend them to Miss Greet?’ + +‘Oh, dear, no! She never asked me for them.’ + +‘You are _sure_ you have them still?’ + +‘Quite sure! I was looking at them this afternoon.’ + +‘Then she could not have taken them, as desired, for him to see? + +‘No; but I think she may have _pretended_ to have them, sir, just to +gain time to say what she wished to say to him, and then, when he +found he had been deceived, the brute may have revenged himself on her +by--ah, it is too horrible to think of!’ cried Farrell, breaking off in +another burst of grief. + +‘Or she may have fallen overboard by accident, don’t forget that, +Farrell. It was a terrible night, and the sailors say they couldn’t +have heard any cries through such a squall. It doesn’t lessen the loss +to think so, but it is as well not to accuse anybody of a crime, even +in our thoughts, until we are sure of it.’ + +‘That villain is capable of anything,’ said Farrell doggedly. + +‘And now about this Miss Douglas, as you call her? Is there any one on +board who knows her to be the wife of Harland beside yourself?’ + +‘I think not, and I have no proofs. She and Maggie Greet both told me +so. That is all I know.’ + +‘That is unfortunate. At present, it seems to me that all we can do is +to watch and wait. Even if Mrs Harland comes forward to tell what she +knows, we have no evidence that this Miss Greet ever went up on deck +at all. The case seems pretty clear to you and me, but we have to make +it clear to others. So I can do nothing more at present, and you must +not mention a word of our conversation to any one on board, not even to +Miss Douglas. You must try and be patient. I know you are burning to +charge Mr Harland with the deed--you feel so positive he is the guilty +party that you almost wonder I do not clap on the “darbies” at once. +But that is not our way of working. Supposing he were able to prove +that he was all the time in the company of friends, we should at once +lose the case, which, if properly worked, is bound to be cleared up one +way or the other. Do you go with me?’ + +‘Yes, yes. I suppose it signifies little either way. Nothing will bring +my poor girl to life again.’ + +To this sentiment Mr Fowler had naturally no refutation, and so he +withdrew noiselessly, and left Will Farrell to himself. + +Nothing occurred during the following day of any interest. Iris Harland +kept entirely to the second cabin. She hardly dared to _think_ of how +poor Maggie may have come by her death, and she dreaded, with a sickly +loathing, the idea of meeting her husband again. She even shrunk from +seeing Vernon Blythe. She knew that he would question her so closely, +and sympathise with her so deeply, that she was afraid of what she +might say or do before him; and in answer to more than one kind note +full of affectionate anxiety, she only begged him to leave her alone +until she had somewhat recovered from the shock of losing her poor +friend. + +So the day passed on, gloomy and uneventful. The passengers conversed +in undertones on the marvellous disappearance of Maggie Greet, and the +captain peered anxiously into the fog, which still forbade him the use +of his sextant, and made him morose and irritable. + +The _Pandora_ remained motionless upon the water. The mist was so dense +that it was impossible to see farther than seven yards from her side. +It was a very perilous position, for at any moment she might have +been cut down by a steamer. The patent Aurora foghorn was constantly +sounded, and every few seconds a long, deep-toned roar, like the lowing +of a monster bull, echoed over the deep, and denoted the whereabouts of +the helpless mariners and their living freight. + +The sea resembled a sheet of boiling metal, throwing off vast clouds +of steam, which, gathering in huge volumes in the air, hung suspended +until some mighty wind should arise to drive them away. The mist clung +about the rigging, and fell thence in large drops like rain. The decks +were sodden and slippery. The brass-work of the bridge railings, the +binnacles, and the gratings, which usually shone like gold, had turned +to a sickly greenish hue, and red and orange rust oozed from the +bulwarks and combings of the masts and stanchions, as if the vessel had +been punctured with a hundred lancets, and was slowly bleeding to death. + +The wretched cooped-up fowls, standing upon one leg, with their heads +buried beneath their wings, uttered now and then a croupy remonstrance; +the ducks huddled close together to try and keep out the damp chill, +which even their natural oil could not withstand; and the three +surviving sheep filled up the intervals between the lowing of the +fog-blast, with a series of monotonous bleats. + +In the forecastle, the seamen ‘yarned’ together by the dim light of a +miserable, smelling, paraffin-oil lamp, which filled the place with +exudations of black smoke, which, combined with the strong flavour of +cavendish, and the dank feeling of the mist, was anything but agreeable. + +Now and again the foghorn of the _Pandora_ would be answered faintly +by a distant echo, which grew louder and louder, till all on board +wondered what course the stranger could be making, till suddenly a +tall, dark spectre would shoot rapidly past them in the gloom (like the +celebrated Phantom Ship), making their hearts beat with excitement, +and vanish again as quickly in the fog, leaving only the disturbed +water as a sign that they had been passed by an ocean-liner. + +And so the day closed, and morning broke on the same blank prospect. +The officers grumbled, the passengers fretted, and the shellbacks +growled and swore like so many surly bears. Captain Robarts was still +more uneasy than on the previous day. He had noticed that the barometer +was falling, and he expected nothing short of a strong gust of wind +to clear the horizon. He spoke to no one except his officers, and +with them his consultations were short, hurried, and uncommunicative. +Every one on board was in the dumps. It seemed as if the disappearance +of Maggie Greet had cast the shadow of death over the vessel and all +concerned in her. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER X. + +DRIFTING BACK. + + +But of every one on board the _Pandora_ Godfrey Harland was in reality +the most nervous and uncomfortable. He longed to be able to shut +himself up in his own berth, and refuse sustenance, but he could not +afford to do it. He felt it was indispensable for him to appear at +meals, and pretend to have a good appetite, and to talk and laugh +loudly, as he had been wont to do, but he was obliged to pay for it +afterwards by drowning his thoughts and dulling his conscience with +copious draughts of brandy. And notwithstanding all his efforts to +appear jolly and at his ease, he could see that his fellow-passengers +were not quite the same to him as they had been before. Although +Will Farrell and Mr Fowler had kept their own counsel, hints _would_ +leak out--a word was dropped here and there, or a look given--and Mr +Harland’s companions began to glance shyly at him. His jests were not +responded to; his offers of assistance were rejected; and conversation +was hushed as he drew near. Even Grace Vansittart seemed to avoid him, +and drop her big brown eyes confusedly when they met his. Harland +perceived the general feeling, though no one was brave enough to +express it openly, and it drove him to drink. For two nights he drank +to intoxication; and after some hours of torpid sleep he ascended the +poop deck, where, with bleared eyes and flushed and feverish face, he +leaned upon the taffrail. The nervous twitching of the fingers that +clawed the buttons of his coat, his startled glances and trembling +tongue, showed what havoc the drink had made with him. But the state +of the weather was in his favour. Had not the thoughts of the ship’s +company been occupied with the fog and its possible danger, his conduct +would have been far more noticeable than it was; but all minds were too +much wrapped up in their own welfare to have time to concern themselves +about the doings of others. + +As Godfrey Harland left the saloon, little Winnie Leyton escaped from +her mother’s side, and, disobeying orders, clambered step by step up +the ladder, and landed herself on the poop deck. Dodging the officer +on watch, who happened to be Vernon Blythe (who, she knew well, would +soon re-consign her to her mother’s care), the mischievous little imp +concealed her tiny person behind the mizenmast, waiting until the +young sailor had turned his back, and then pattered aft along the +wet deck to Harland’s side. He hated children, and this one beyond +others, because both her mother and sister had always displayed a +marked aversion to him. So, to her innocent questions and remarks, +he made no reply; and, tired of his silence, Winnie ran off to find +a more congenial companion, and commenced to play ‘peep-bo!’ with +the quarter-master on the lee side of the wheel-house, much to the +amusement of that jolly tar. But children soon weary of any employment; +so, after standing on the bench and shaking her arch little head, with +its golden curls, at him through the window for the space of five +minutes, she kissed the helmsman through the pane of glass, and jumped +on the deck again. + +‘Tum here, tum here!’ she cried presently, tugging at Harland’s +coat-tail; ‘tum and see dis tunny ting.’ + +‘Go along, you little beast! Go down to your mother, and don’t bother +me!’ he said angrily, as he shook off the dimpled hand. + +Winnie made a wry face, and puckered up her rosebud mouth for a cry. +She was not used to be called by such ugly names, and she did not +understand them. But she summoned up courage to remark, before she did +so--determined, like the majority of her sex, to have the last word,-- + +‘_Not_ boddering! Dere _is_ a tunny ting--in de water. _Dere!_’ + +‘It’s only a fish. Run away! I’m busy!’ + +‘I tink it sark. Do tum and see,’ persisted the child. + +‘Where is it then?’ inquired Harland. ‘I suppose you’ll give me no +peace till I _have_ looked at it.’ + +Winnie pulled him along gleefully, delighted at having gained her own +way. + +‘Dere! _dere!_’ she exclaimed, pointing with her little finger to some +object in the water. + +But one look was enough for Godfrey Harland. With his eyes starting +from their sockets with horror, he covered his face with his hands. + +‘My God! my God!’ he exclaimed, in a voice of agony, as he rushed away +and left the child by herself. + +Winnie was terribly frightened. She couldn’t think what she had said, +or done, to make the ‘cross man’ so angry with her; and bursting into +a loud howl, she attracted the notice of ‘Brother Jack’ (as she still +called him), who ran forward, and took her in his arms. + +‘Why, what’s the matter, baby? Have you hurt yourself?’ he inquired +tenderly, as he kissed the wet face. + +At the same moment he was joined by Alice, who had been sent by Mrs +Leyton to bring the truant back. + +‘How naughty of you, baby, to run away directly mother left the cabin,’ +she began reprovingly, but stopped on seeing her little sister’s tears. +‘Why, who has made you cry, darling? Not Jack?’ + +‘As if “Jack” _would_,’ replied Vernon, with mock reproach. ‘It’s _you_ +who make _Jack_ cry, Miss Alice.’ + +‘Much you’ve cried for me,’ she answered, in the same tone. ‘Why, +you’ve looked twice as young and handsome since I set you free. But +what has happened to Winnie?’ + +‘Man make faces at me,’ sobbed the child. + +‘_Man!_ What man?’ demanded Vernon. + +‘Dere,’ said Winnie, pointing to the wheel-house. + +But when Jack searched in that direction, he found no one. Harland, +trembling with terror, had already hidden himself below. + +‘I expect it was Mr Harland,’ said Jack. ‘He was the only person on +deck a few minutes ago. What did you do to make him angry, Winnie?’ + +‘Sowed him a fis. I specks it’s dere now.’ + +‘Well, come along, and show it to Alice and me,’ he said, walking aft +with the little child clinging to his hand. ‘We’ll look at Winnie’s +“fis,” and see if we can catch it, and cook it for mammy’s dinner.’ + +‘Oh, Jack, how _sweet_ you are!’ cried Alice enthusiastically. + +She was of a romantic disposition, and occasionally given to these +little outbursts of sudden regret for the lover whom she had +voluntarily relinquished in favour of Captain Lovell. Jack looked at +her with a world of merriment in his soft grey eyes. + +‘Don’t be a fool, Alice,’ he said, laughing. + +‘Oh! but you _are_,’ persisted the girl, with a suspicious mist +obscuring her sight; ‘you are so kind to everybody. It seems to me as +if you only lived to make other people happy.’ + +‘You’re very much mistaken then, for I can make myself deucedly +disagreeable when I feel inclined. But let’s look out for Winnie’s +“fis.” By Jove! Alice, that’s no fish! Wait till I get the glasses.’ + +‘What is it, Jack?’ asked Alice impatiently, as he took a long survey +of the object in question. ‘Can’t you make it out?’ + +‘It looks like a black log from here; but these glasses are not very +clear. But stay! there is something white on it. Good heavens! it is a +body! It must be the woman who jumped overboard the other night.’ + +‘Oh, Jack! how _can_ it be?’ + +‘I can swear it is the body of a woman, and with a black dress on. +Here, Alice, you had better take Winnie below. This is no sight for +either of you. And I must go at once and report it to the captain.’ + +Vernon Blythe was correct. Strange as it may seem, it was the body of +poor Maggie Greet, which had risen to the surface on the third day. + +The _Pandora_ had gone far ahead in the squall; but since then she had +been slowly but surely drifting back again, and was now on the very +spot where she had been three nights before, and the murdered woman +floated on the waters within a hundred yards of her stern.[A] + +A boat was lowered at once, and paddled to the quarter, and the corpse +was reverently lifted into it, and carried to the surgery. + +There was tremendous excitement throughout the vessel whilst the +doctor’s and captain’s examination of the body--at which they invited +Fowler and Farrell to be present--was going on; but it resulted in no +discovery that could afford a clue to the manner of her death. Her long +dark hair had fallen about her face, having been washed down by the +action of the waves, and her face and figure were much swollen, and +beginning to show signs of discoloration. But there were no marks of +violence to be seen, nor any evidence of a struggle having taken place, +nor the slightest proof that she had been in any way even acquainted +with Godfrey Harland. She still wore Iris’s long cloak, tied round her +throat, but the woollen wrap had fallen from her head. The poor dead +girl formed a sad and solemn spectacle, and Will Farrell’s grief at the +sight of her was profound. After a rigid and careful examination, Mr +Fowler led the poor fellow away to his own berth, fearful lest in his +pain he should say or do something to cast suspicion on the man they +both had in their mind’s eye. + +In the dog watch, the body, sewed in a canvas shroud, and heavily +weighted at the feet, was laid on a grating covered with the Union +Jack, and the bell was tolled to announce that the funeral was about to +take place. + +The passengers, with serious faces, clustered about the captain and +his officers, who stood close to the grating, and the seamen, dressed +in their Sunday clothes, clean shorn, and holding their caps in their +hands, filled up the background. A burial at sea is one of the most +solemn and impressive services imaginable. + +The skipper, officiating in the place of a priest, with prayer-book in +hand--the silent corpse that lies under the flag, ready to be committed +to the deep--the infinite surroundings of water and space--the +unfathomable grave--the words which are pronounced as the grating is +withdrawn, ‘We therefore commit this body to the deep, to be turned +into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the +sea shall give up her dead’--the hollow splash--and the sobs that +often break upon the succeeding silence, form a scene that cannot be +wiped from the memory in a lifetime. There were many things to render +it more solemn than usual on this occasion. The mystery surrounding +the sad fate of the young woman who had been their fellow-passenger +affected most of the spectators strangely; and Will Farrell, although +he had promised Iris to control himself, and his hated enemy, Godfrey +Harland, stood with dry eyes within a few yards of him, broke down so +completely, as the body disappeared from view, that his sobs seemed +to penetrate every part of the vessel. Iris, though scarcely less +affected, made no scene. She trembled like an aspen leaf when she saw +her husband take his place amongst the mourners, and grew so deadly +white that Vernon Blythe (who never took his eyes off her) thought she +was going to faint. But she made a strong effort to recover herself, +and stood silent throughout the ceremony. When it was over, indeed, +and the passengers were dispersing, she walked to the gangway and took +a long look at the water, whilst her tears dropped into it, and she +wished her poor faithful Maggie farewell until the light of another +world should break upon them. And then she turned, and laid her hand +upon Will Farrell’s arm. + +‘Come, Mr Farrell,’ she said gently, ‘and _leave the rest to God_!’ + +As she spoke the words, she raised her eyes, and encountered those of +Godfrey Harland, and in that glance the wretched murderer read that his +crime was known to her. + +When the burial was over, and the sailors had resumed their duties, the +bell rang for dinner, but few sat down to it. The women were overcome +by the scene they had witnessed, and even the men were not inclined to +be jolly or conversational after so solemn a ceremony. + +‘Farrell,’ said Mr Fowler, as he entered the former’s berth, and +fastened the door securely behind him, ‘I am afraid the examination of +to-day will lead to no results. There was absolutely nothing to guide +us as to the manner of her death. If it did not occur by accident, we +shall have to use other means by which to arrive at the truth.’ + +‘I feel _sure_ it did not occur by accident,’ returned Farrell. ‘Have +you been able to speak to Harland yet?’ + +‘I have not. He has been drinking very hard the last few days, and +kept to his cabin, which is in itself a suspicious circumstance. But I +have ascertained from the second officer, young Blythe, that there was +something very strange about his conduct when the body was discovered +to-day. He did or said something that nearly frightened Mrs Leyton’s +youngster into fits. But if he is guilty of the murder, he must be a +very hardened villain, for I watched him narrowly during the burial +service, and I could not detect the least signs of emotion. One thing +only have I ascertained for _certain_, and that is, that he did not +attend dinner on the evening of Miss Greet’s disappearance, neither +did anybody see him afterwards, until Dr Lennard and Captain Lovell +went on deck about eleven o’clock for a smoke, and found him leaning +over the mainrail, and apparently gazing at the water. Of this there +is no doubt. They are both ready to swear to it. Also, that he had so +much chloroform on his handkerchief that the doctor turned quite sick, +and begged him to put it away. Harland said he used the chloroform for +toothache, and so he may have done. But the doctor has an ugly little +story to tell about finding Mr Harland in his surgery on the afternoon +of the same day, without his being able to give a good account of +himself, and also of one of his bottles of chloroform being missing +since.’ + +‘But what can be clearer?’ exclaimed Farrell. + +‘My dear fellow! it may be clear that Mr Harland took the doctor’s +chloroform without his authority, but there is no proof he did not use +it (as he affirmed) for toothache. We can do nothing in this matter +without hard, undeniable proofs.’ + +‘We shall never do anything!’ cried Farrell despairingly. ‘The brute +will go scot-free. It is always so in the world.’ + +‘Not always, sir; in fact, _my_ experience is that very few criminals +escape in the long run; and this business won’t be forgotten against Mr +Harland--you may take your oath of that!’ + +‘I should think I might,’ returned Farrell. ‘_I_ sha’n’t forget it, Mr +Fowler, and if the law doesn’t punish him for it, _I will_. I shall +live for nothing henceforward, but to see that man die as he killed +her. He robbed me of the first half of my life, and just as I hoped I +might live to forget all I had gone through on his account, and find +some comfort in the love of a true-hearted woman, he robs me of her +too, and in the cruellest and most dastardly manner! But he shall +answer for it! I swear before God, he shall live to suffer as she +suffered,--to die hopeless, as she died! If the hangman refuses the +job, I’ll twist the rope round his dirty neck myself!’ + +‘Hush! hush! you must not speak like that,’ said Mr Fowler; ‘you are +excited, and don’t know what you are saying. Go to bed now, my good +fellow, and try to sleep. You will be worn out if you keep this sort of +thing up much longer!’ + +‘Yes; I’ll take your advice, and get into my berth. I may as well sleep +now; she’s sleeping under the water, and I can never do her any more +good in this world. And I shall want all my strength, too, Mr Fowler; I +shall want it _for what’s coming_!’ + +He scrambled into his berth as he spoke, and the kind-hearted detective +having administered a sleeping-draught to him, under the guise of a +stiff glass of whisky toddy, left him to forget his troubles as best he +might. + + FOOTNOTE: + + [A] A fact. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XI. + +A CHANGE. + + +During that night a gentle breeze rippled the bosom of the ocean, and +the unhealthy mist, like a death-shroud hung over the face of the +living, was slowly lifted, and passed away. By morning, when long +white shafts of light were appearing in the eastward, there was a +clear horizon, and, better still, a fair wind. Then the clouds assumed +fantastic shapes, and drifted towards the west, and a rosy hue tinted +the white sky, which turned to a deep scarlet, and finally resolved +itself to a rich orange, until a majestic ball of fire shot up into +the heavens, and lit the day with golden beams. + +The _Pandora_ was making her eight knots an hour with flowing sheets. +All her sails were spread to the wind, and the sun soon dried +and warmed her decks. Several other vessels were in sight--small +coasters--that were making northerly courses, and occasionally a black +pillar of smoke from the funnel of a steamer could be distinguished +right ahead. The passengers, recovered from their despondency, had +assembled with smiling faces on the poop deck. + +Mr and Mrs Vansittart were present, delighted at the idea of so +soon reaching _terra firma_, and resuming their life in the bush, +and not less so at the prospect of getting rid of their troublesome +companion. For Mr Vansittart fully coincided now with his wife’s +opinion concerning Godfrey Harland, and had quite made up his mind to +dismiss him as soon as ever they reached New Zealand. He would not +be ungenerous, or unkind. That was not in his nature. He would recoup +him liberally for his trouble and loss of time, but he would not take +him up to Tabbakooloo. His behaviour with Grace, and her evident +infatuation for him, would have been sufficient reason to prevent it, +without the very serious suspicions that had lately attached themselves +to his name. So that matter was settled, eminently to the satisfaction +of Mrs Vansittart, although her husband was not equally delighted at +the prospect of the task that lay before him. + +Mrs Leyton, keeping one eye upon her baby and the other upon Alice and +Captain Lovell, was smiling serenely at the prospect of meeting her +husband, and having some one to look after her again, and Miss Vere was +in the same state of joyful anticipation. + +The actress had made good use of her time. + +The long monotonous voyage had afforded her ample leisure for studying +her new _rôles_, and she was looking forward with the keenest pleasure +to making her _débût_ and her name in a new country, and with a new +people. + +Her parts suited her to perfection, her wardrobe was safe in the hold, +her husband was waiting to receive her with open arms in Canterbury. +What on earth could any woman want more. She looked radiant with health +and happiness, as she sat in her deck chair, talking with Harold +Greenwood, who generally played shadow to her substance. This young +gentleman had not been so stricken by his disappointment as some people +might imagine, neither had the unexpected revelation that his divinity +was married had any effect in making him alter his pre-conceived +determination to follow her through the New World. She could still be +worshipped, even if she _were_ Mrs Perkins! In fact, Mr Greenwood had +not quite made up his mind whether he might not yet cut Mr Perkins +out. And Miss Vere’s manner to him may have favoured the idea. She +delighted in her little ‘masher,’ and never lost an opportunity of +letting him make a fool of himself. He was her fetcher and carrier, +and general ‘walking-stick,’ and she so often avowed that she did not +know what she should have done on the voyage without him, that he quite +believed himself to be indispensable to her comfort. + +‘Oh, _I_ travel with “the company,”’ he would reply to any one who +asked him what were his plans on reaching New Zealand. ‘You see Miss +Vere couldn’t very well do without me. I’m her “factotum,” as she is +pleased to call it. In fact,’ he would continue, lowering his voice, +‘I ran a very good chance once of becoming a near connection of Mr +Perkins’. No, that’s not it exactly,’ he would say, correcting himself, +with a puzzled look upon his flabby face; ‘but I _ought_ to have been +Mr Perkins, or I _should_ have been, if there had been no Mr Perkins at +all. You understand, I’m sure. It’s the way of the world, but it’s the +sort of thing one can’t talk about.’ + +So half the passengers thought Mr Greenwood was a very wicked and +immoral young man, and the other half thought--well, they thought, and +justly, that he was an ass, with something spelt with a big _D_ before +it. But he was none the less amusing on that account to Miss Vere, who +declared that he was the sole thing that had kept her in health during +the voyage. + +Alice Leyton, leaning on the arm of Captain Lovell, whose engagement to +her was known to the whole ship’s company, walked blithely up and down +the deck, bandying jests with her old lover whenever she came across +him; and Mr Fowler strutted in company with Dr Lennard. Their colloquy, +indeed, appeared to be of more importance than that of the others, +which was the reason, perhaps, that they conversed with lowered voices, +and stopped every now and then and leaned over the side of the vessel, +whilst they peered with solemn looks into each other’s faces. + +Godfrey Harland, who was seated upon the skylight benches, apparently +shunned by everybody, did not seem to like the way in which Mr Fowler +and the doctor were talking to each other, for he watched their +movements and grimaces attentively, though he was very careful not be +caught doing so. + +Captain Robarts, who was also on deck, seemed to have shaken off ‘the +black dog’ that had clung to him so much of late, and actually greeted +the ladies with the nearest approach he could manufacture to a smile. +The wind and the weather had had a marvellous effect upon him. Three +or four times during the morning he had rushed into the pilot-house +and examined his precious sextant, and brightened up its silver arc +with his silk bandana. He was in exuberant spirits _for him_,--thankful +beyond measure that the voyage had terminated with so few mishaps, and +that his barque was within a day’s sail of the land. He forgot his +petty annoyances, and chatted to his first officer in quite a lively +manner. He regarded his vessel with a complacent, self-satisfied +air, as if she owed everything she was, or had done, to him alone. +He sometimes indulged in a low chuckle to himself; and had he not +considered that he might have fallen thereby in the estimation of his +passengers and crew, he might even have committed the impropriety of +bursting out into song. But from this indiscretion his utter want of +voice or musical ability mercifully preserved him. + +But the crowning bliss was yet to come. Mr Coffin, obeying the +instructions of his superior officer, officially proclaimed to the +ladies and gentlemen on deck, that the following day would bring them +to the end of their voyage, and in two days’ time (providing there was +no quarantine) they would all be on shore. + +This news was received with the greatest excitement and applause. Miss +Vere set the example of clapping her hands, which was taken up by all +present, and the second-class passengers, who had been listening to the +first officer’s harangue from the quarter-deck, burst forth, on its +conclusion, into a loud cheer. + +Godfrey Harland joined in it. The intelligence was, perhaps, more +welcome to him than to any one there. In a day more he would be +free--free from these long faces and suspicious looks--free also, +he hoped, from his wife, and the scrutiny of Farrell. As he thought +of Iris, he glanced down at the quarter-deck, and saw her standing +there by the side of Perry, with her serious eyes strained in the +direction in which they had told her the land lay. The idea flashed +across Harland’s mind that it would be as well, perhaps, to speak to +her as soon as he could do so without attracting notice. He had had +no communication with her since _that night_. Would she not think it +strange if he did not ask the reason of her not complying with his +request? He waited until most of the saloon passengers had disappeared, +joyfully bent on packing their boxes, and writing letters with the news +of their arrival, to be despatched to the old country which they had +left thousands of miles astern, as soon as they touched land. And then, +with a quick look around, to see if he was observed, Godfrey Harland +descended the companion, and made his way to the side of his wife. Will +Farrell was below at the time, and Perry had walked away before Harland +appeared. There was no one near enough to overhear their conversation. + +‘Iris,’ he commenced (but do what he would, he could not help his voice +shaking), ‘did you receive my letter the other night?’ + +‘I did,’ she answered, without looking at him. + +‘Why did you not meet me then, as I asked you to do, in the spare +galley?’ + +‘You know the reason well. Poor Maggie came to meet you, instead of me.’ + +‘_Maggie!_’ exclaimed Godfrey, with a well-feigned start of surprise, +‘_Maggie!_ Was it in coming after _me_ that the poor girl met her +death? This is terrible news! It was a great shock to me when I heard +_who_ was missing. Why did you not tell me she was on board?’ + +‘I did not see the necessity.’ + +‘Of course I could have no idea she would cross the sea with you: it +was so unlikely. What could have been her motive in doing so?’ + +‘I do not suppose it is any concern of yours.’ + +‘You are very cold and hard to me. One would think I had been doing +something wrong. What is the matter? I came down with the kindliest +feelings, to make some arrangement with you about landing to-morrow. We +cannot go together, but I must not lose sight of you. I cannot quite +decide what is best to be done.’ + +‘Spare yourself the trouble, Godfrey; I do not intend to go with you.’ + +‘Who do you go with, then?’ + +‘That is _my_ business. But I will never live with _you_ again, rest +assured of that.’ + +This determination, so different from what Iris had expressed before, +when she had threatened to compel him to acknowledge and support her, +filled Harland with terror. There was evidently some deep feeling at +work, to have made her alter her mind so soon, and speak so boldly to +him. Was it possible she _knew_ how Maggie Greet had come by her death, +and was resolved to expose him? What else could imbue her with this +sudden independence and hardihood? As he thought of it, his knees +knocked together with fright. But he tried to brave it out. + +‘I can’t understand your tactics, Iris. Last time we met, you told +me that if I would give you my written word to live soberly for the +future, everything should be right between us. Well, I am ready to give +you my promise to that effect. I wrote you that letter with the idea +of making up our quarrel, and I have hardly spoken to Miss Vansittart +since. Indeed she is quite angry with me for my want of courtesy. And +now you appear to have changed your mind. What is the reason?’ + +‘I don’t see that there is any need to give it you, and I am quite sure +you would not like to hear it if I did. But I am quite resolved not to +owe anything to you for the future. I will neither live with you, nor +take any maintenance from you. I would rather starve, a great deal. And +now you know my determination, please not to speak to me again, or you +may drive me to do something for which we may both be sorry.’ + +Godfrey Harland understood her now. He saw plainly that she +_suspected_, though it was impossible that she should _know_. Still--if +he aggravated her into giving vent to her suspicions--it might be very +awkward for him. Conciliation all round was the only card left for him +to play. + +‘You have got some fancied grudge against me, Iris, I suppose, though I +can’t for the life of me imagine _what_.’ + +‘If _I_ imagine it, it is sufficient for my purpose.’ + +‘True. But I am sorry. I had dreamt we might turn over a new leaf in +the new country, and become a model married couple.’ + +‘No. That will never be--_now_,’ she said significantly. + +‘You understand plainly that my little flirtation with Miss Vansittart +is completely over, don’t you?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘And that my income is to commence at six hundred a year.’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘And I am willing to remit you half of it, until I can disclose our +marriage to Mr Vansittart?’ + +‘Yes.’ + +‘And yet you refuse to live with me,--you give me up altogether, at the +very moment when I have the opportunity to keep you in a comfortable +home.’ + +‘I do. I refuse to have anything whatever to do with you, from this +hour to the last day of my life.’ + +‘Have you confided your intention to any one else?’ + +‘To no one.’ + +He drew closer to her, and whispered nervously,-- + +‘Iris--if--if--you have taken any absurd notions into your head, which +have not the slightest foundation--you--you won’t ruin me, will you? +You won’t go and make them public property, so as to cast an unmerited +stigma upon me, and spoil all my future prospects?’ + +Then she turned her pale face towards him, and he read the truth in her +eyes. + +‘You have no cause to fear me,’ she answered contemptuously. ‘You will +never be betrayed by _me_. But--it must depend on the condition that +you never claim me as your wife, nor try to marry another woman. If you +attempt to interfere with me, or to force me to live with you again, +I shall adopt what means I can to prevent you. Understand me plainly, +Godfrey Harland. You and I are parted _for ever_. I would not even +stoop to take your hand, that is stained with--’ + +‘Hush, hush! for God’s sake!’ he entreated; ‘it is a mistake; it is not +true. I had nothing whatever to do with it.’ + +‘Say no more,’ she interposed, with a quick look of horror. ‘Every word +you utter is a fresh condemnation. If you want me to be silent--if you +want me to keep my promise and my senses, you will leave me to myself, +and never attempt to see me again.’ + +She turned from him, and by the convulsive twitching of her face he saw +how difficult she found it to control herself. He made one more effort +to speak, but Iris waved him from her, and feeling very uncomfortable, +conscience-stricken, and alarmed, Godfrey Harland retreated to his own +cabin, to consider what steps it would be wisest to take in the matter. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XII. + +EXPOSURE. + + +At four bells in the early watch at the break of the ensuing day, +Captain Robarts was to be seen walking in company with his chief +officer. The wind had continued to blow steadily during the night, +freshening a little at eight bells, and the _Pandora_ had, at that +time, but one hundred miles to traverse. Should the elements continue +to favour them, the skipper expected to be anchored in the Bay before +midnight. But the appearance of the sun, which just peeped from a +curtain of bright red clouds, bordered with dull orange, formed the +subject of a grave discussion between the two officers. + +‘I don’t like the looks of it, sir,’ said Mr Coffin, who had summoned +his commander to join him in an inspection of the offending luminary; +‘and my opinion is, that we shall get it before night falls.’ + +‘We ought to be at anchor by the second dog watch,’ observed the +captain; ‘have you noticed the barometer?’ + +‘Yes; and it’s falling, sir,’ replied the mate gravely. ‘Look at the +lumpy sea, too. The wind is not shifting about. There is no reason why +those waves should toss about in that fashion.’ + +‘I don’t mind the water so much,’ said Captain Robarts; ‘but those +blood-red streaks about that washed-out sun look dirty. What’s she +making?’ + +‘Eight and a-quarter when I hove the log at eight bells, sir,’ answered +Mr Coffin. + +‘Let me see, then. We ought to sight the land by two. I shall go below +now, and get my coffee. Don’t alter her course, but call me if there is +any change. And, by-the-way, Mr Coffin, tell Mr Blythe that if he has +time to do it this morning, I want the booms put into the foremast.’ + +And with another glance towards the east, Captain Robarts retreated to +his berth. + +Before the decks were washed, several of the male passengers had +ascended the poop. It was the usual custom with them aboard to be +called at five bells, and when six bells struck, and the decks had been +well scrubbed and ‘squeegeed’ down, to make their appearance above. + +On the morning in question, however, the shellbacks had not yet +shipped their pumps and hose when Captain Lovell, Harold Greenwood, +Mr Vansittart, and others climbed up the ladder, and beset the mate +with questions. But when the nozzle commenced to play a stream of water +over their trousers, these gentlemen, whose shore rig-out (unlike the +sea-boots of the ship’s company) could not withstand the briny, took +refuge in the little pilot-house, and, lighting their cheroots, waited +till they might find a dry resting-place outside. + +‘What did Mr Coffin say?’ asked Captain Lovell. + +‘I couldn’t succeed in getting anything out of him,’ laughed Mr +Vansittart. ‘He only muttered something about sighting land this +afternoon.’ + +‘These sailors always like to be so confoundedly mysterious,’ remarked +another. ‘Why the deuce can’t the fellow satisfy our curiosity, instead +of talking in riddles? He must know perfectly well when the ship is +due.’ + +‘Wait till Blythe comes along. _He’ll_ tell us.’ + +‘Yes; he’s a very different build from these uncouth bears. Vernon +Blythe is a gentleman,’ said Lovell; ‘but Captain Robarts doesn’t know +how to answer a civil question, and Mr Coffin thinks it funny to slap +you in the face (metaphorically speaking) for asking it.’ + +‘Any room inside there for a little one?’ inquired Mr Fowler, looking +in at the doorway. ‘These fellows seem to enjoy throwing the water over +one.’ + +‘Yes; come in. Good-morning. How are you?’ said Lovell. + +‘Jolly, thanks. Had a capital night’s rest. What’s the betting on the +passage now?’ + +‘Well, I’m afraid the odds will be longer, since the sun and barometer +have conspired to damp our hopes.’ + +‘What; are we going to have a blow?’ demanded Fowler. + +‘So the mate thinks. The skipper has been on deck too, which is unusual +for him, I think. He does not, as a rule, leave his blankets so early.’ + +‘I noticed something queer about the sun when I was on the +quarter-deck,’ said Mr Fowler. ‘I am not much of a judge of such +matters, but it looked uncanny to me. By Jove! do you hear those gulls? +They are uttering the most discordant screams. I expect there is +something in that too.’ + +The voice of the first officer here broke in upon their conjectures. + +‘Clew up the mizen royal,’ he shouted suddenly. + +‘Hullo! it has begun already!’ exclaimed Captain Lovell; ‘let us go out +on deck. They can’t haul on the ropes and drench our trousers through +at the same time.’ + +The sun had risen clear of the horizon now, and was lighting up the +seething ocean, with its watery rays. The red clouds still hung about, +but their colour did not appear to be so vivid. In the westward, on the +starboard bow, a dusty-looking vapour obscured everything from view. As +the wind increased, the _Pandora_, with flowing sheets, quickened her +speed. The log then told nine and a half. + +On all sides, the sea, instead of rolling in long swells, rose in the +air in chops, often breaking suddenly and dispersing in rivers of white +foam. The water gurgled through the crevices in the ports, and flowed +back through the scuppers. After much flapping, the royals were secured +and made fast to the yards, and then, the mizen-topgallant sail was +stowed, which made spits bounce aboard over the after mainrail. + +Several vessels were passed. + +A lively little coaster, under reefed topsails and storm staysail, and +a big smoke-jack, breasting the sea, steaming in the very teeth of the +wind, dipping her bows frequently, and ladling up large seas upon her +topgallant forecastle, that made the ‘look-out’ hastily lay aft, and +take up his responsible position on the bridge. + +But the _Pandora_ had the best of it. + +She was before the wind, and all her square canvas was drawing to +advantage. Little was eaten at the breakfast-table that day. Excitement +chased away hunger, and the ladies emerged from their berths, warmly +wrapped in hats and cloaks, and after swallowing a few hasty morsels, +went on deck to aid in keeping a good look-out. A hundred times the +binoculars and spy-glasses were levelled towards the land, and on each +occasion the eager questioners received an answer in the negative. + +Two people alone on board ship appeared indifferent to their +whereabouts, and refused to sympathise with the animal spirits and glad +anticipations of the passengers. These were the captain of the vessel, +and his chief officer, who regarded the signs of the weather as far +more important and interesting than the proximity of land. At noon, the +main-topgallant sail was taken off her, and she then rolled heavily. +Large seas thumped over by the main chains, making the gangway +exceedingly difficult to traverse without receiving a shower bath. + +The increased violence of the wind did not hasten the speed of the +_Pandora_, and it was not till four o’clock in the afternoon, when the +passengers had become weary of looking out for it, that a dark line in +the horizon, looming through the surrounding mist, intimated that they +were at last in sight of land. + +‘That’s it, sure enough, sir,’ remarked Mr Coffin. ‘Those ugly crags +mark the entrance to the bay. But I don’t think we shall get anchorage +to-night.’ + +‘Nonsense! we are not thirty miles off,’ replied the captain. + +‘But the wind is increasing, sir,’ argued the mate, ‘and we sha’n’t get +a pilot. So how about anchorage?’ + +‘Plenty of good anchorage there, Mr Coffin. I shall run in this evening +and bring up under the cliffs. We shall be under the hills by ten +o’clock. + +‘Yes, sir; but I’ve known it to blow stiffer when it comes down +between those hills than when outside.’ + +To this remark Captain Robarts gave no answer but a grunt. + +‘Are the anchors over the bows?’ he asked presently. + +‘Yes, sir; we got them over in yesterday’s dog watch.’ + +‘See your cable ranged on deck clear for running, and tell the +carpenter to look to his windlass,’ and turning aft, the captain went +to alter her course. + +‘Land, ho!’ shouted the man on the look-out, which made the passengers +jump from their seats, and rush to the side. + +‘Ay, ay,’ replied Captain Robarts indifferently. + +‘Let her go off a point,’ he continued, speaking to the helmsman, and +having satisfied himself that the vessel was on her right road, he +turned away to avoid any questions that might be put to him. + +As soon as that longed-for cry had been sung out, everybody was +naturally eager to discern the promised land. + +‘But I can’t see _anything_!’ exclaimed Alice Leyton. ‘I wish Jack was +here; I am sure there must be something wrong with these glasses.’ + +‘I expect it requires a practised eye,’ said Captain Lovell. ‘By Jove! +though, I can make out a headland over there. Can’t you see a grey +peak?’ + +‘I _think_ I can,’ replied Alice, but her tone was too doubtful to be +relied on. + +But in the course of another hour, when two bells had been sounded in +the dog watch, the tall rugged form was distinctly visible, with its +rough beetling crags majestically facing the ocean, but the foot was +not apparent. There was a thick pearly mist on the face of the water, +that hid the breakers that dashed with such fury against the rocks from +view, and allowed only the summit of the land to be seen. + +Will Farrell paced the quarter-deck, burning with thoughts of revenge. +He longed to confront his enemy Harland, and prove him to be the +murderer of the woman he had loved, and yet he dared not disobey the +orders of the detective. + +‘Yet what if he should escape?’ he thought to himself, as his hands +nervously grasped the lappels of his coat. ‘Here we are within sight +of land, and the villain is cunning enough for anything. Once let him +get on shore, and neither Mark Rendle nor I will ever see him again. +He will hide like a fox. Surely the passengers ought to share our +knowledge and suspicions, that there may be the less chance of his +getting off scot free. He has done it once. Why should he not do it +again? Yet, if I should ruin all my chances of revenge! What _shall_ I +do?’ + +Almost as he thought thus, Godfrey Harland appeared before him. He had +been considerably upset by Iris’s reception of him the day before. Her +look and manner and speech had so palpably conveyed to him the truth +that _she_ suspected him of having had a share in the death of Maggie +Greet. And if she suspected it, perhaps Farrell did so too. And yet of +what avail were their suspicions, when they could not possibly have any +proofs, and would not dare to speak without them? Even the doctor’s +careful examination of the body had resulted (as Harland had taken +good care to ascertain) in his being unable to detect any signs of +violence. And now she was hidden from sight for evermore--buried in the +unfathomable depths of the sea, and no one had the right to call her +accidental death by any other name. At the same time, he had decided it +would be advisable to conciliate Farrell, if possible, before going on +shore, so as to prevent his tongue wagging more than was agreeable when +he got there. And to that intent Harland now approached his enemy, +with a pleasant smile and an outstretched palm. He could not have +chosen a more unfavourable moment for making his overtures of peace. + +‘How are you, old man?’ he commenced airily, as he proffered his hand. +‘Here we are, you see, at the end of our journey, and to-morrow we +shall part, perhaps for ever.’ + +‘What do you mean by speaking to me?’ demanded Farrell, glaring at him. + +‘_Mean!_ Why, that I want to part friends with you. Come along, and +have a drink.’ + +‘_Have a drink!_’ replied Farrell, dashing the offered hand to the +ground. ‘Do you imagine that _I_ would drink with _you_?’ + +‘And why not?’ said Harland, determined to brave it out. ‘What harm +have _I_ done you? Surely you are not going to harbour that old grudge +against me for ever. Come, man, try to forget and forgive. If ever it +is in my power, I’ll make it up to you--upon my soul I will; but just +at present I expect I’m as poor as yourself.’ + +‘_Make it up to me!_’ cried Farrell fiercely. ‘Can you give me back the +character you took away, or restore the woman who was to have been my +wife?’ + +At that allusion Harland grew ashy pale; for Farrell spoke so loud that +the whole ship might have heard him. + +‘Hold your tongue, you young fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘You don’t know what +you’re talking about. I had no more to do with the girl’s death than +you had yourself. What’s the use of talking such nonsense, just because +we had a bit of a tiff over our play? Make it up like a sensible man, +and have a drink over it.’ + +‘Stand off!’ thundered Farrell; ‘don’t dare to approach me, or it will +be the worse for you.’ + +‘What do you mean? Are you drunk, or mad?’ + +‘Whichever you please; but if you don’t go at once it will be the worse +for you.’ + +Harland would have gone as desired, had not Bob Perry appeared at that +moment upon the scene. + +‘Hullo, Farrell!’ he cried, ‘what’s up?’ + +‘This scoundrel dares to ask me to drink with him,’ replied Will hotly. + +‘And, pray, what harm is there in that?’ asked Harland _nonchalantly_. + +His manner irritated Farrell beyond endurance. + +‘Do you presume to ask me?’ he cried. ‘Do you wish me to carry out my +threat, and expose you to the whole ship?’ + +‘You _dare_ not!’ hissed Harland in his ear; ‘you have not a single +proof to bring forward to support your lies; whilst _I_ should ask you +before them all how much you know of the disappearance of your leman +over the ship’s side the other night.’ + +‘_Liar!_’ exclaimed Will Farrell, flying at his throat, and in another +minute the two men were rolling on the deck together, locked in a +furious embrace. Perry called for help, and every one on deck was soon +witnessing the struggle. Again and again did the combatants spring up +and fly afresh at each other, but at last the screams of the women and +the expostulations of the men seemed to rouse them to some sense of +their disgraceful position, and, bruised and bleeding, they allowed +themselves to be separated. Harland was much the more severely punished +of the two, and seemed almost fainting, as he was supported between Dr +Lennard and Captain Lovell; but Farrell, pinioned in the strong arms of +Vernon Blythe, was quite ready to go on with the fight, and it demanded +all the strength of the young officer to prevent his flying at his +enemy again. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIII. + +A LEE SHORE. + + +‘This is disgraceful, gentlemen!’ exclaimed Dr Lennard; ‘and I am +surprised at your so forgetting yourselves. If you do not cease +fighting at once, you will compel me to call in the authority of the +captain.’ + +‘Let me go,’ panted Farrell, as he struggled in the detaining grasp of +Jack Blythe; ‘let me finish the brute whilst I can! He is a forger and +a murderer. He is not fit to live.’ + +‘_He lies_,’ murmured Harland, faint with loss of blood. ‘He is mad; +don’t listen to him.’ + +But every one was listening. The saloon passengers hung over the +fiferail, the stewards appeared in the cabin passage, the shellbacks +gathered in a group at the main rigging, and the rest were clustered +upon every side. + +‘It is the truth!’ gasped Farrell. ‘He has defied and insulted me, and +I will expose him.’ + +‘Don’t let him speak,’ said Harland, shaking with fear. + +‘Yes, yes! let us hear him,’ interposed the second-class passengers. + +‘Ay, ay, let the lad have fair play!’ exclaimed a veteran shellback. + +‘I will tell you about the murder,’ continued Farrell, choking with +excitement and fury. + +‘_The murder!_’ echoed a dozen voices. But at that moment Mr Fowler +pushed his way through the crowd, and caught hold of Will Farrell. + +‘Stop, man, for Heaven’s sake!’ he cried. + +‘No, no; you shall not stop me,’ replied Farrell, wrenching himself out +of his grasp. ‘My blood is up, and everybody shall know the truth of +it.’ + +‘I warn you--’ continued the detective. + +‘The time is past for warning,’ said the unhappy Farrell; ‘all I want +is my revenge.’ + +‘Let us hear him. It’s only fair that he should be allowed to speak!’ +exclaimed the crowd. + +‘That man, who calls himself Godfrey Harland, is Horace Cain, the +forger of Starling’s cheque, who escaped to America, and came back +under an assumed name.’ + +Harland’s white lips moved to refute the assertion, but no sound came +from them. + +‘He is the husband of the lady who calls herself Miss Douglas, and whom +he deserted and left (as he thought) in England; and the girl--the poor +girl,’ continued Farrell, in a choking voice, ‘as came by her death +the other night, and as was to have been my wife, went up at that +very hour to meet him, and show him the proofs I hold against him for +forgery. What do you say to that?’ + +‘_Where_ are your proofs?’ gasped Harland, to whom terror seemed to +have restored his speech. ‘I don’t know Miss Douglas, or the other +woman. I never spoke to either of them. You must mistake me for some +other man.’ + +‘No, he don’t,’ interposed a sailor, ‘for you met Miss Douglas when +she was in the spare galley along with me, sir, and you knew her, and +called her by her name as soon as you clapped eyes on her!’ + +‘Can you swear to that?’ asked the detective. + +‘_I_ can swear to it,’ replied Iris, suddenly appearing in their midst, +‘for I am his wife, Iris Harland.’ + +At this announcement, Grace Vansittart gave a slight scream, and fell +into the arms of her mother. + +‘It is for _her_ sake, not my own, that I have said this,’ continued +Iris; ‘and of all the rest, _I know nothing_.’ + +She swayed forward here, as though she were about to fall, and Vernon +Blythe flew to her side and threw his arm around her. + +‘Courage,’ he said, in a low voice, and as he spoke she seemed to +revive, like a flower when the skies are opened. + +‘But who can speak to Mr Harland’s having met Miss Greet on the evening +she fell overboard?’ demanded a voice from the crowd. + +‘_I_ know that when she was found she wore Miss Douglas’s cloak, which +she had taken from her cabin after she was asleep,’ said a steward. + +‘And I--’ interposed Dr Lennard, ‘that on that evening, as I left the +dinner-table, I found Mr Harland in my surgery, who told me he had +dropped the end of a cigar there. The same night, at about eleven +o’clock, Captain Lovell and I found him alone by the mainrail, and +asked him to accompany us to the smoke-room, which was immediately +pervaded by a strong smell of chloroform, proceeding from his +pocket-handkerchief. The next morning I discovered one of my bottles of +chloroform was missing. + +‘I--I--told you--I had the toothache,’ said Harland, with chattering +teeth. + +‘So you are the hero of the Starling forgery case, Mr Harland. You +made a plucky bolt of it, and though I have been on the look-out for +you several times since, I little thought to find you so many miles +from home. Without a warrant, my power is at present useless, but +I must detain you from going on shore, on the charges of forgery +and--suspected murder!’ + +‘Can I--can I--go to my cabin?’ gasped Harland, who felt that every +eye--that of Miss Vansittart included--was on him. + +‘Certainly; it is better you should do so,’ replied Mr Fowler; ‘and I +will see you are not disturbed nor molested in any way.’ + +The unhappy man shambled off, eager only to hide himself from the +scrutiny of his companions, and the company on the quarter-deck broke +up. + +‘So you are a detective?’ said Captain Lovell to Mr Fowler. + +‘Yes, sir. It is useless to keep up the deception any longer. As soon +as I arrive at Lyttleton, I shall return by the first mail to London. +You little suspected you had an official on board, but as matters have +turned out, it is as well that I was here.’ + +‘And why are you going to New Zealand?’ + +‘That I must not tell you, but you may be sure it is not for pleasure. +Allow me to hand you my card.’ + +‘_Mark Rendle!_’ exclaimed Captain Lovell; ‘the hero of the +International forgeries! I am proud to know you,’ extending his hand. +‘Had you only thrown off your disguise, how you might have amused us +during the voyage.’ + +‘Possibly; but I had my duty to think of, and had I permitted +pleasure to interfere with it, this little game, for one, would have +been spoiled. But as it is blowing hard, I will go below and get +my overcoat. The one I feel for most in this business is poor Miss +Vansittart. There is no doubt this rascal has been passing himself off +on her as a single man. How will she bear the shock?’ + +‘Better than you think, I imagine,’ replied Captain Lovell. ‘She is not +a young woman of very deep feelings, and her vanity will be more hurt +than anything else. Will you join me in a glass of whisky?’ + +And Mr Mark Rendle having assented, the two men strolled together to +the bar. + +It was then past seven o’clock, and the shades of night had hidden the +land. The fog also made it very thick ahead, so that the entrance to +the bay could not be distinguished. + +The wind howled and wailed with piercing accents through the rigging, +the sea was very high, and boiling torrents of foam hissed around the +_Pandora_. The mainsail and crossjack were both safely rolled up, and +the vessel began to labour heavily in the turbulent sea. + +Long, grey clouds sailed across the sky, making the moon appear as +though she were travelling at an enormous speed. + +For two hours more the good ship stood on, and then the wind was +blowing a strong gale. Captain Robarts was getting very uneasy. He was +not certain if he was steering straight for the mouth of the bay, and +it was too late for him to turn back. + +The truth is, he was close to a very dangerous lee shore. Mr Coffin +and Mr Blythe stood together by the rigging trying to peer through +the mist, whilst Mr Sparkes, with two seamen, was on the look-out. +Half-an-hour afterwards, a voice sung out ‘Land ho! on the port beam, +sir!’ The _Pandora_ had entered the bay. + +‘Lower away the topsail halliards,’ ordered the captain. ‘Stand by your +port anchor, Mr Coffin.’ + +‘Land right ahead!’ shouted the voice from the forecastle. + +‘What’s that?’ yelled the skipper. ‘Hard a-port with your helm, +man!--over with it!’ + +There was a sudden movement made by a few of the passengers toward the +wheel, the vessel answered her helm, and paid off; but Captain Robarts +had miscalculated his position. A moment afterwards there was an ugly, +grating noise, that seemed to scrape the ship’s keel fore and aft,--a +sudden lurch,--a tremendous crash, and the _Pandora_, with her fore and +main-topgallant masts and jiboom carried away--a pitiful, miserable +wreck--heeled over, with the sharp-pointed, cruel rocks deeply +imbedded in her side. + +Before any one on board was fully aware of their perilous situation, +a monstrous sea washed over her deck, carrying the first officer, +Mr Coffin, and several sailors away before it, and half-filling the +cabin, followed by others that leapt over at the fore and main chains. +In a moment all was confusion. Vernon Blythe was witness to the +disappearance of the mate, and immediately took command in his stead. + +‘Man the starboard lifeboat!’ he ordered, in a firm, loud voice. + +All realised the meaning of those terrible words. The women shrieked +and clung to each other, whilst their faces blanched with mortal +fear. With clenched teeth, and eyes staring into vacancy, they tried +to pray, but only succeeded in wringing their hands in despair. The +furious seas that were clearing the ship’s maindeck--the wild confusion +on board--the warring of the elements as they thrashed and battled +against the precipitous cliffs--resounding in the chasms with the noise +of thunder, and retreating only to charge again; the hoarse cries of +the sea birds, and the thought of their close proximity to Death, +appalled them beyond description. + +The men stood bewildered, clutching at the rails, and watching the +agonised frenzy of the weaker sex without offering them any comfort or +assistance. They were unnerved themselves, and showed their terror by +their scared and expressionless faces, trembling limbs, and speechless +tongues. + +Vernon Blythe was busily employed on the skids, cheering on the +sailors, and superintending the lowering of the lifeboat. His face was +very white and strained, but his hands were steady; and of all there, +young or old, he was the most courageous and self-possessed. He had +no leisure to think of the sad fate of his chief officer, poor Abel +Coffin, who, with five sturdy shellbacks, had been swept from his side +into the boiling deep. He dared not even think of Iris Harland, though +every effort he made seemed to be done for her, and her alone. He was +conscious of only one thing,--that, in that fearful hour, he stood +alone, responsible for the actions of the sailors, and the safety of +their living freight. He stood there, calm and collected, taking no +heed of the confusion by which he was surrounded. His lip quivered a +little, and a drop of blood, which he had drawn with his closed teeth, +trickled slowly on to his chin. But his orders were given in a clear, +authoritative voice--slowly and deliberately, and without the least +sign of fear. The seamen noticed his cool courage, and it urged them on +to redouble their efforts, and fight against the raging storm. Vernon +Blythe, young as he was, to assume such a command, taught them a lesson +that night which those who survived it never forgot. He showed them +the value of self-control in a time of danger, and what a pitiable +creature the man without it can prove himself to be. + +That man, strange to say, was the very one who should have been to the +front in everything--the commander of the vessel, Captain Robarts. +There he stood, next to Jack Blythe, with a face of ashen paleness, a +trembling frame, chattering teeth, that rattled like castanets against +each other, wild, haggard looks, and a total inability to supply his +young officer’s place. When the man was most wanted to show an example +of courage and trust in God--when he should have taken the sole command +of his ship’s company, and lived or died with them--his despicable +cowardice completely unsexed him, and he might have been the smallest +cabin-boy on board, for the picture of abject terror he displayed. + +When the tempest arose, and the wrath of Heaven seemed poured out upon +them, and that beautiful axiom of George Herbert’s--‘He that will +learn to pray, let him go to sea’--appeared most applicable, then +Captain Robarts forgot his Creator, his position, and his duty. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XIV. + +SHIPWRECKED. + + +In the midst of this terrible confusion, the starboard lifeboat of the +_Pandora_ was taken from her chocks, and swung into the davit tackles. +Six sailors jumped quickly into her, and took their places on the +thwarts, and the third officer, Mr Sparkes, grasped the tiller in the +stern sheets. Then the women, with tear-stained faces and dishevelled +hair, were handed down, some moaning piteously with fright, others +murmuring prayers to Heaven for help, and clinging to their companions +in their distress. The first to enter the boat was Grace Vansittart, +wailing louder than the rest, and covering her face with her hands to +shut out the terrifying scene around her. Her usually blooming face +was white as marble, and her large brown eyes seemed to be starting +from their sockets. But her grief was all for herself. No thought, +in that awful hour, of the wretched man to whom she had been vowing +protestations of fidelity throughout the voyage occupied her mind. +She was too much alarmed on her own account to remember anybody else. +Father, mother, and lover had alike sunk into insignificance beside the +danger that threatened herself. There was no doubt but that, should +Miss Vansittart survive the wreck, she would soon enough be comforted +for the loss of Godfrey Harland. Mr and Mrs Vansittart were the next to +follow. + +The old man had wished to remain behind, but his wife had clung to +him with so tenacious a grasp, that Vernon Blythe pushed them both in +together. + +‘John! John!’ the poor woman had exclaimed; ‘we have lived together for +thirty years! Don’t let us die apart!’ + +And after all, as Vernon in the pride of his young manhood thought, +what was an old man but a woman! + +Mrs Leyton followed with Alice, but not before they had both turned +round and given him a farewell kiss. + +‘God bless you, dear boy,’ sobbed the mother, ‘for all you have done +for me and mine.’ + +‘Oh! Jack, Jack!’ cried Alice, ‘I have never left off loving you! How I +wish--’ + +‘All right, dear Mrs Leyton. All right, Alice,’ he replied cheerily. +‘Keep up your spirits! We shall meet again before long,’ and so passed +them into the boat. + +‘Oh, Jack! come with me!’ screamed Alice, as she found herself rocking +on the deep, but the wind prevented her voice from reaching his ear, as +he busied himself with handing the baby into the arms of the shellbacks. + +Poor little Winnie was as sorely frightened as the rest, and loud in +her lamentations. Then came Miss Vere, pale as a piece of Parian, but +calm and collected; and when her full complement was made up, the +lugger-rigged craft was pushed off, and headed for the harbour. + +The remaining hands then cut away the lashings of the forward +jolly-boat, while others shipped the stanchions and rigged tackles. The +male passengers had partly recovered from their scare by this time, and +followed the good example of Vernon Blythe and the seamen, in trying +to launch the second boat. It was a very dangerous task. The seas +had smashed up the smoke-room as if it had been so much match-wood, +ripped up the main fiferail, and torn away the after end of the house +amidships. The after companion-ladder had also been swept away, and the +cabin could not be entered from the quarter-deck. + +The port boats were stove in, and innumerable planks, sea-chests, +buckets, and blocks, were washing about the deck, making an incessant +clatter that was audible even above the howling of the gale. + +Captain Robarts stood upon the poop, his agonised and distorted face +the very picture of despair. One cannot judge of a sailor’s qualities +until he is seen under circumstances of difficulty or danger. Then his +noblest or his weakest points alike stand out in bold relief. A sailor +may traverse the ocean for years, and never fall in with a mishap. +It is easy sailing to steer a craft in fine weather, with plenty of +sea room. But a heavy blow in the Channel, with land on either side, +and a forest of shipping to keep clear of,--or a stiff breeze and a +lee shore, with an untrustworthy vessel--these are the dangers which +the mariner has to look out for, and which will prove him a man to be +either esteemed or despised. + +Standing by Captain Robarts’ side, with an excited look in her eye, +but no fear upon her face, was Iris Harland--the only woman left upon +the sinking ship. She had watched all the others depart, she had even +made a feint of following them, but, after all, had kept intentionally +in the background, and let the lifeboat go without her. But few knew +that she remained behind. Vernon Blythe fully believed she was on her +way to land. His first thought and inquiry had been for her, and one +of the sailors had told him she was lowered into the boat. And so he +had returned to his duty, with his mind at ease as far as Iris was +concerned. Yet she stood by the skipper’s side, watching his gallant +efforts to save the remainder of the passengers and crew--proud to +think that (after a fashion) he belonged to her, and resolved to stay +by his side to the very last, and die with him, if it was ordained that +he should die. + +These two standing together--the old experienced man, and the young +untried woman--were the exponents of a rule which has but few +exceptions,--that love is strong as death. _She_, who was regarded as +the weaker vessel, made strong by reason of her love, stood calm and +courageous in the midst of danger and the sight of dissolution; whilst +_he_, who had but himself and his own credit to consider, caved in like +a coward under a responsibility too heavy for him. + +The jolly-boat was launched, and a dozen passengers essayed to enter +her at once, pushing each other down in their effort to be first, +thinking only of their own safety, and not caring a rush for that of +their neighbours. + +One man, however, looked round before he jumped into the boat, and +catching sight of Iris Harland on the poop, elbowed his way towards her +with an exclamation of horror. It was Will Farrell. + +‘Miss Douglas!’ he cried excitedly, ‘why are you still here? Come! +come! before it is too late.’ + +But Iris did not stir. + +‘Save yourself, Mr Farrell,’ she replied; ‘I shall remain behind +until--until the last.’ + +‘What! to court death? Don’t you know that before long the vessel must +be broken up,--that every moment may be your last? Miss Douglas, for my +sake--for Maggie’s sake--come with me.’ + +‘Do you think I have so much to live for that I should fear death?’ she +answered, smiling. ‘Pray, Mr Farrell, don’t waste time over me. I do +not intend to leave until the last boat goes.’ + +‘But there may not be another. Every minute renders it more difficult +to launch a boat.’ + +‘Then I shall die here,’ said Iris, with her soft eyes following every +movement of Vernon’s form. + +‘You have lost your senses. Do you realise what you are saying? Mr +Blythe,’ shouted Farrell lustily, ‘_make_ Miss Douglas come in the boat +with us.’ + +In a moment he was by her side, trembling for her safety, when he had +never trembled for his own. + +‘Oh, Iris, how is this? I thought you were in the lifeboat. How came +you to be left behind?’ + +‘I stayed of my own free will, Vernie,’ she said sweetly; ‘I stayed +to be _with you_. Don’t deny me this poor privilege. We cannot live +together, but if we are to die, oh! let me die by your side.’ + +‘_My darling!_’ he exclaimed; ‘I will guard your life with my own!’ + +‘Oh, Mr Blythe,’ said Farrell, ‘don’t let her throw that life away. +Persuade her--command her, to leave the vessel. You _know_ it cannot +live much longer in this sea.’ + +‘I know that our lives are in the hands of God,’ returned the young +sailor simply, ‘and that there is as good a chance for the next boat as +for this. If Mrs Harland prefers to remain with me, I shall not prevent +her from doing so.’ + +‘Then God help you both. I must go, or they will start without me;’ +and without another word Will Farrell ran off to take his place in the +jolly-boat. As it pushed off, he found himself sitting next to Godfrey +Harland. The men glared at one another like savage beasts, but fear for +themselves had swallowed up for the time being even their desire for +revenge. Only one boat now remained that could be called seaworthy, and +that was the cutter--for the captain’s gig could not have lived in such +a storm--and all hands rushed towards the mainmast, and climbed up by +the crossjack braces, and along the mizen stay, towards the frail craft. + +By the aid of the bridge, Vernon Blythe clambered again upon the poop, +where Iris was now standing alone, the captain having staggered to the +other side of the vessel, so paralysed by the scene before him as to be +unable apparently either to act or think. + +‘Iris,’ exclaimed Vernon, as he took her in his arms for one mad +moment, ‘Iris, my own darling! you have risked your life to stay with +me.’ + +But words failed him. His heart beat high with joy, although the +murderous waves were leaping around them, as though they longed to +lick them both down together to a cruel death. The warm tears filled +his yearning eyes, and a strange choking sensation assailed his powers +of speech. After an effort at self-control, he resumed, hastily and +authoritatively,-- + +‘Come, dearest! this is the last boat, and you must be the first to +enter her. Hold your shawl closely over you, and I will see you lowered +into it.’ + +‘But, Vernie, _you_ will come, too?’ she asked anxiously. + +‘I will come too. I will follow you. _I promise it_,’ he said. + +Then he clasped her closely to him, and pressed a passionate kiss upon +her quivering lips, before he turned to superintend the lowering of the +cutter. With hatchets and sheath-knives the lashings were soon hacked +through, and with the main-topmast staysail halliards, they swung her +from her beds, and rove the patent lowering gear. + +When Iris and the few men left on the fast-sinking _Pandora_ were +safely aboard, Vernon Blythe went to find the captain, and entreat him +to accompany them. Nothing more could be done for the ill-fated vessel, +and it was folly to throw away life without reason. But on reaching the +hatch, he was startled by hearing the report of a pistol, followed by +a heavy fall, and running to the foot of the mizenmast, he discovered +the body of his unfortunate commander, shot through the heart. The +wretched man, not daring to meet his employers, with the brand of shame +and failure on his brow, knowing well that all the blame for the loss +of the _Pandora_ would be laid upon his shoulders, that his certificate +would be suspended, and he would stand before the authorities a guilty +man, had put an end to his existence. The fact is, Captain Robarts’ +whole soul had been wrapped up in his profession. His ship had been +his wife, his children, and his home, and without her he felt he had +nothing left to live for. This unexpected fatal calamity, which had +dashed his brightest hopes to the ground, in the very hour of their +fulfilment, had unsettled his mind, and transformed him at once into +an embittered, broken-down man, who saw no refuge before him except in +death. + +Vernon Blythe knelt down by the side of his expiring commander, and, +raising his head upon his arm, caught his last faint orders. + +‘_Here--here_--in _her_.’ + +What did he mean? Did he wish to be buried with his ship? + +‘In the _Pandora_, sir?’ he asked. ‘Am I to leave you here?’ + +The dying man’s eyes opened with a last gleam of intelligence, and then +closed for ever. + +There was no time to lose. + +Dragging the now lifeless form to the pilot-house, Vernon Blythe laid +it on the spare bunk, and murmuring the prayer, ‘God have mercy on +him,’ covered the corpse with the house flag of the vessel, which he +took from the locker, and hastily closing the door, left the dead +sailor in his desired resting-place. + +As he jumped into the cutter, the men, weary and dispirited as they had +become, received their gallant young officer with a cheer. But Vernon +only thought of one thing--that Iris was safe, and, for the time being, +they were _together_. + +[Illustration] + + + + +[Illustration] + +CHAPTER XV. + +FARRELL’S REVENGE. + + +Once clear of the sinking vessel, and the spars that floated about her +stern, the cutter went prosperously on her way, but the jolly-boat had +not been so fortunate. Overladen by the rush of excited passengers +who crowded into her, she had but small chance in such a gale, and +when she was some little distance from the _Pandora_, a huge wave +took her suddenly on the wrong quarter, and she capsized with all her +living freight into the sea. In the dark, with the boisterous water +knocking the breath out of their bodies, what chance had the unhappy +passengers of saving themselves. Indeed, the immersion was so sudden +and unexpected, and they had been so thoroughly unnerved before it +occurred, that the majority of them were sucked under, almost before +they knew that they were drowning. + +But when the _Pandora_ ran upon the scarp of rocks at the north-east +side of the bay, her fore-topgallant mast had gone over the side. The +sea had soon carried it away from the vessel, and when the luckless +jolly-boat capsized, it proved a harbour of refuge for three men. After +a brief struggle, one of them, a sailor, by name Jack Andy, managed +to grasp a rope, and pull himself towards the spar, which he hugged +with a grip of iron till he had recovered his breath, then perceiving +a shipmate in distress, who was attempting to reach it also, he tossed +him a line, and dragged Will Farrell from a watery grave. + +Slowly the mast drifted towards the land, sometimes immersing the men +under the huge rollers, then bringing them up again, only to prepare +for another breathless dive. + +‘God help the rest of ’em,’ observed Jack Andy, in one of these short +intervals, ‘for if ever _we_ get to shore, _they_ won’t, that’s +certain. They’re all in kingdom come by this time.’ + +‘They’re just as well there as here,’ replied Farrell, with teeth +chattering from the cold. ‘Hullo! here’s one of them, though.’ + +The moon had just beamed upon the water, and by her white light, he +could discern the features of a man who, though greatly exhausted, was +clinging to the heel end of the spar. + +It was Godfrey Harland. + +As Farrell recognised him, the anxiety for his own preservation seemed +entirely to disappear, and a cruel, vindictive spirit pervaded his +countenance. With the utmost difficulty, he sidled along the mast until +he faced his enemy. + +‘Now, _Horace Cain_!’ he exclaimed loudly, ‘we meet face to face, and +my time has come at last.’ + +‘What would you do to me?’ cried Harland, in a voice of terror. + +‘Do to you? _Kill you!_ as you killed my love. Make you taste the same +death you meted out to her. We have no weapons but our fast-failing +strength, but we stand on fair ground.’ + +Like all bullies, Harland was a coward, and his last remnant of courage +forsook him now. + +‘Oh, God!’ he howled, ‘spare me--spare me! You are mad!’ + +‘I _am_ mad,’ replied Farrell, ‘mad for my revenge. You have wrested +from me all I cared for in this world, and laughed at the pain +you caused me. You have taken away my good name,--trampled on my +reputation,--killed the only woman for whom I cared. Yes, Godfrey +Harland, I could not _probe_ it perhaps in open court, but I _know_ +you to be the murderer of Maggie Greet, and if the hangman is to be +cheated of his due, the sea shall do his work for him. You have wounded +my heart till the last drop of human blood has oozed from it, and +changed me from a man into a devil. Life is worth nothing to me now, +and I have sworn not to die until I have avenged _her_ death.’ + +As he spoke, Farrell crept nearer and nearer to his victim, and Harland +could see his long, lean fingers curling themselves in readiness to +clutch his throat as he approached. + +‘Oh, mercy! mercy!’ whined the cowering wretch. ‘Farrell, I repent. I +will make amends. Have mercy on me, for Heaven’s sake!’ + +‘What mercy did you show to her?’ yelled Farrell. ‘Doubtless my poor +girl cried to you in her terror, as you cry to me, and how did you +reply? You cast her into the arms of the murderous sea, as may God give +me strength to cast you now. No, no! the fight is a fair one, and let +the best man win.’ + +And throwing out his arm to grasp his enemy, Farrell let go of the +spar, and the two men fell into the water together. + +Jack Andy looked on from the other end of the floating mast in sheer +amazement at the scene that passed before him. The wind was too strong +to permit him to hear what they said to one another; but as the timber +to which he clung was carried each moment farther into the bay, the +water became calmer, and he was enabled to keep his head clear of the +rolling billows, and to watch everything that took place between his +companions. + +‘Why, how’s this mates!’ he exclaimed, as he saw them relinquish their +grasp of the spar; ‘hold on, whatever you do! for we’ve the chance of +life afore us now for the first time.’ + +But they were deaf to every voice but that of their own evil passions. +Directly Jack Andy perceived their murderous intentions, he edged +towards them, with the idea of calling them to reason, or saving them +by main force. But he was too late. Godfrey Harland was the stronger of +the two, although he had been taken somewhat unawares, and as soon as +he realised that Farrell was about to strangle him, he prepared with +all his force to throw off his assailant. + +But the younger man had fixed his nails so firmly in his throat that he +prevented his using his arms with any effect, and they both disappeared +beneath a heavy roller. When they rose up to the surface, they were +beyond Jack Andy’s reach. Harland’s face had turned purple, and the +whites of his eyes were staring upwards at the moon. + +‘_Die!_’ hissed Farrell, in his own death struggle, ‘die, as _she_ +died, and be cursed--_for ever!_’ + +Down they went again beneath the remorseless sea, who opened her arms +so willingly to receive them, locked together in a fierce embrace of +hate and revenge; and when Jack Andy looked back for the last time, he +saw the two men, gripped together in death, sink down to the bottom of +the deep. + + * * * * * + +The lifeboat and the cutter both got safe to land, and Mr Blythe and Mr +Sparkes, as the only two surviving officers of the ill-fated _Pandora_, +were bound to return to England by the first steamer, to report the +particulars of the wreck to their employers, and to stand their own +trial for the loss of the vessel--a trial which resulted in so much +credit to them both, for their promptitude, coolness, and courage, that +they were immediately re-appointed as first and second officers of the +_Hebe_, one of the finest ships in the possession of Messrs Stern & +Stales. + +And when Vernon Blythe was forced to leave England again, which +(luckily for himself) did not take place for some months afterwards, he +had to say good-bye to his wife as well as his mother. For after that +time of trial and distress, he had felt that it was equally impossible +to leave Iris friendless and alone in New Zealand, or to bring her home +with him, unless she were his wife. And so they had been privately +married within a few days of landing, and the girl had felt as if she +had exchanged earth for heaven ever since. + +‘Do you know, Vernie,’ she said, as she stood by the side of her +handsome young husband in the window of the Southsea cottage, on the +very day he brought home the news of his appointment to the _Hebe_--‘do +you know that I sometimes think I _must_ have died in the wreck of the +_Pandora_, and this is quite another woman who stands beside you now.’ + +‘I am very glad it is _not_ another woman, Iris,’ he answered, as he +stooped to kiss her. + +‘But the world is all so changed for me. I feel as if I had passed +beyond every trouble, and landed in a haven of peace. Even my sorrow +at parting with you, darling,’ said Iris, with her bright eyes filled +with tears, ‘is tempered by knowing that your dear mother loves me, and +that it is a comfort both to you and her that I should be her daughter +whilst you are away. But, oh, you will come back to me, Vernie!’ she +added, in a sudden burst of grief, ‘you _will_ come back to me!’ + +‘I _will_ come back to you,’ he said, sweetly and solemnly, as he +folded her in his arms. ‘We are each other’s, dearest, for life or +death. Whether it be in this world or the next must be decided by a +wiser love than ours, but so long as my soul exists, _I will come back +to you_.’ + + +THE END. + + +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 75728 *** |