Such uneasy weeks they were. I think the happiest hours were those when I was alone with Edward. We had taken to each other. I think I must have been an improvement on the not very satisfactory Miss Beddoes, and it is always easier to follow a failure than a success. Lessons had become centered round the coming trip. That was easily explained in geography, but I found myself telling of the colonization of Australia and the arrival of the First Fleet. In arithmetic he found it easier to concentrate when the sums were concerned with cargo. A magic word in itself.
Whenever we went out our walks always took us to those heights where we could look down on the docks and see the shipping spread out before us.
Edward would dance about with excitement.
“Look at her. She’s a wool clipper. She’s going to sail to Australia. Perhaps we’ll get there before her. I think we shall…because we are sailing with the Captain.”
Once we took the binoculars with us and there we saw her. We could make out her name painted on her side in bold black letters: Serene Lady.
“That’s our ship, Edward,” I told him.
“It’s the Captain’s ship,” he replied soberly.
“They’re getting her ready for her journey,” I added.
The time was close at hand when we should leave England.
It was a thrilling moment when, Edward’s hand in mine, I climbed the gangway and stepped onto the deck of Serene Lady. I felt reckless and yes, happy. I couldn’t help it. The excitement of the adventure was with me, and I knew that had I stayed behind and known that on this ship Redvers Stretton sailed—and Chantel with him—I should have been as depressed and unhappy as I ever was in my life.
I thought The Serene Lady beautiful. I had been as excited as Edward when I had seen her through the binoculars; but to step on board to see for myself her polished brass and gleaming decks and to think that she was Captain Stretton’s ship thrilled me deeply. She was one of the new steamers which Chantel told me “we” (quoting Edith) were adding to “our” fleet. “Perhaps nothing can be quite so romantic as the sailing barques, brigs, and cutters, but they’re fast becoming old fashioned and we have to be up-to-date.”
Serene Lady was not a big ship, but she carried a sizable cargo and twelve passengers into the bargain, among whom were to be Rex, Chantel, Edward, his mother, and myself.
Chantel was with me when I went on board. Her green eyes sparkling like gems, the breeze catching at her titian hair, she looked lovely and I wondered afresh whether the obvious interest she had in Rex made her as vulnerable as I feared I was.
The cabins were fitted with carpets, beds, fixed dressing tables, which could be used as desks, armchairs, and built-in cupboards.
While we were examining them Chantel came in. I must go and see hers which was only a few doors away. Hers was part of a suite and Monique’s adjoined it. She showed us this. There were flowers on the dressing table and the curtains at the porthole were of silk not chintz as in ours.
Edward sat on the bed and started to bounce up and down on it.
“It’s very grand,” I said.
“Well, what did you expect for the Captain’s wife?” demanded Chantel. “Mind you, she won’t always sleep here. Only when I have to keep my eyes on her. I daresay she will want to share the Captain’s quarters.” She pointed up. “Near the bridge,” she added.
“I’m going on the bridge,” said Edward.
“If you’re not careful, my lad,” said Chantel, “you’ll be ill with excitement before you have a chance to suffer from the sea.”
But there was no calming Edward. He wanted to explore; so I took him up to the top deck and we watched the final preparations being made for our departure.
On that wintry afternoon when a big red sun showed itself through the mist, to the sound of sirens we began to move out into the Channel and began our journey to the other side of the world.
***
The lady remained serene through the Bay of Biscay. When I awoke in my cabin on the first morning I had difficulty in recalling where I was; and as I looked round I really could not believe that I was on board the Captain’s ship en route for exotic places. My trouble was, as Chantel had pointed out on several occasions, that I expected life to be dull and uneventful. Hardly uneventful, I had pointed out grimly, recalling Aunt Charlotte’s death. “Well,” she had temporized, “you always imagine that exciting romantic things won’t happen to you. Therefore they don’t. We get what we work for in this world, remember…or some part of it. Take what you want. That’s my motto.”
“There’s an old saying, Spanish I think, that says ‘Take what you want,’ said God. ‘Take it and pay for it.’”
“Who’s complaining of the cost?”
“People don’t always know what it will be until the bill is presented.”
“My dear, precise, prosaic old Anna! There you are, you see. Immediately you think of pleasure you start calculating the cost when anyone knows that that is likely to put a damper on the proceedings.”
I lay there on that first morning recalling that conversation, but when I got up and felt the slight roll of the ship beneath my feet, when I parted the chintz curtains and looked through the porthole at the gray-blue sea, I felt a lightening of my spirits that was more than excitement, and I said to myself: I’ll be like Chantel. I’ll start to enjoy life and I won’t think of the cost until the bill is presented.
And that determination stayed with me. I was indeed intoxicated by the novelty of being at sea, living close to my friend Chantel, and knowing that Red Stretton was on board and that at any moment I might meet him face to face.
She was a good ship because she was his ship. There was to me a feeling of security because he was in charge. The fact was that if I did not look into the future and ask myself what would happen at the end of the voyage, I could be content during those golden days when we sailed past the coast of Spain and Portugal to call at the Rock of Gibraltar before entering the Mediterranean Sea.
***
There were eight passengers on board besides our own party, including a boy of about Edward’s age. This was reckoned to be good luck because the two boys would be companions for each other.
The boy was Johnny Malloy, the son of Mrs. Vivian Malloy, who was going to Australia to join her husband who had already made a home for her there; she was accompanied by Mrs. Blakey, her widowed sister, who was helping her to look after young Johnny.
Then there were Gareth and Claire Glenning. Claire was a gentle, almost timid woman in her early forties, I imagined, and her husband was a few years older, very courtly and gallant and overanxious for his wife’s comfort. The other party consisted of an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Greenall, who were going out to Australia to visit a married daughter and her family, and with them traveled Mrs. Greenall’s sister, Miss Ella Rundle, a rather prim woman who was constantly finding fault with everything.
During the first days or so at sea these people were just figures to me, but it was not long before they began to develop definite personalities. Chantel and I used to discuss them. I would go into her cabin, when Monique was not in the next one, and we would invent life stories for them which the more outrageous they were the more they amused us. I was beginning to get as lighthearted as Chantel. I told her I was taking over her philosophy of life.
A great deal of my time was devoted to Edward. I was obsessed by the fear that he might fall overboard and I would not let him out of my sight during those first days. To make matters more difficult, in the beginning of their acquaintance he and Johnny took a dislike to each other, until, realizing that there was no one else with whom they could play, there was at first an armed neutrality then a truce followed by a reluctant acceptance of each other which was to flower into friendship. But during those early days the sights and scenes of the ship were so new that it was difficult to absorb them and it was some time bef
ore I could accept them as normal.
I took breakfast, luncheon, and tea with Edward, and Johnny and Mrs. Blakey joined us at table. Mrs. Blakey, although the sister of Mrs. Malloy, was treated as a poor relation. She told me that dear Vivian, her sister, had paid her passage and was going to give her a home in the new world. She wanted to show her gratitude by doing all she could. It seemed to me that she did this by acting as nursery governess to Johnny Malloy.
I learned quite a lot of her life history. The runaway match with the young actor of whom her family did not approve, and who, at the time of their marriage, had already been on the point of going into a decline; his death and destitution, the forgiveness and return into the family. Beneficent Vivian would take her to Australia, give her a new start and for that she would be expected to show a little gratitude.
Poor Lucy Blakey, I was sorry for her. I knew what it meant to have been helped when in need, to be expected to pay by service. Surely the most exorbitant of costs.
We became quite friendly over our meals or when we walked the decks with our charges and sat watching them while they played quoits and deck tennis.
In the evenings the children had supper and went to bed at half-past seven; and for dinner, which took place at eight o’clock, Mrs. Blakey and I joined the rest of the company. There was a place for me at the Purser’s table; Mrs. Blakey sat at the First Officer’s.
The Purser’s table was at one end of the dining salon, the Captain’s table at the other, so I did catch a glimpse of Redvers now and then, though he did not appear in the dining salon every evening. Sometimes he took his dinner in his own quarters but during our first three evenings I only saw him once. He looked handsome in his uniform, which made his blond hair look more fair than ever. At his table were Monique, Claire and Gareth Glenning, and Mr. and Mrs. Greenall.
Chantel was at the Ship’s Doctor’s table with Rex. I quickly realized that even though the Captain was on the ship I should very likely see little of him, and it dawned on me then that I was not the one in danger so much as Chantel. I wondered what her true feelings for Rex were and whether beneath her air of casual pleasure she was hurt and bewildered. Rex paid attention to her in his way—and it was a different way from that of the Captain. More serious, one might say, for Rex gave me the impression that he was not the man to be lightly flirtatious.
I had started to think a great deal about Rex. I had the impression that he was a man who showed little of his feelings to the world. It was only occasionally that I caught the look in his eyes when he glanced at Chantel; it was almost fierce, possessive. But how could this be when he was, as we knew full well, on his way to Australia to renew his courtship—if it had ever begun—of Miss Derringham?
And Chantel? I could not understand her either. I had often seen her in animated conversation with Rex and she seemed at such times to sparkle and be even more gay than usual. And yet she never seemed in the least perturbed when Miss Derringham’s name was mentioned.
I said to her: “Chantel, I should love to see your journal again. It would be interesting to compare our views of ship life.”
She laughed. “I don’t keep it now…as I did.”
“Do you never write in it?”
“Never. Well, hardly ever.”
“Why not?”
“Because life is so exciting.”
“But isn’t that a reason why you should capture it, write it down, so that in the future you can live it all again?”
“Dear Anna,” she said, “I think I wrote all that when I was at the Castle for you. I wanted you to share in it all, and that was the only way. Now it’s not necessary. You’re here. You’re living it firsthand. You don’t need my journal.”
We were sitting in her cabin, I on the armchair, she stretched out on her bed.
“I wonder,” I said, “what will be the end of it.”
“Now that depends on ourselves.”
“As you’ve remarked before.”
“The fault, as somebody said, is not in our stars but in ourselves.”
“Shakespeare.”
“Trust you to know. But it’s true. Besides the element of doubt makes it all so fascinating, doesn’t it? If you knew exactly what was going to happen what would be the point of living it?”
“How is…Mrs. Stretton?” I asked.
Chantel shrugged her shoulders. “She won’t make old bones,” she said.
I shivered.
“Why, what’s the matter?” she asked.
“It’s your way of expressing it.”
“Very apt you must admit, very much to the point. Her lungs are badly affected.”
“Perhaps her native air…”
Chantel shrugged her shoulders. “I was talking to Dr. Gregory this afternoon” (he was the ship’s doctor, a tall pale young man already attracted by Chantel I had noticed on more than one occasion). “He said that he thought the disease had too big a hold on her. Even the balmy airs of Coralle may not be of any use now.”
“Does the Captain know?”
“You can bet the Captain knows. Perhaps that’s why he behaves in such a jaunty way.”
“Chantel!”
“Anna! But we mustn’t be hypocritical, must we? The gallant Captain must be fully aware that he made a bad mistake, the sort that very often has to be paid for during a whole lifetime. It looks as though the payment demanded may not be of such long duration.”
“Chantel, I wish…”
“That I would not be flippant about death. Why not? It helps you not to be afraid of it, for yourself or for other people. Don’t forget I’m on better acquaintance with that grim creature than most. I meet him frequently in my profession. It makes me feel less respectful toward him. And don’t grieve for the Captain. Who knows, there might be what is called a happy release.”
I stood up. I did not want to sit in Chantel’s cabin discussing the death of his wife.
She jumped off the bed and slipped her arm through mine.
“I’m always flippant when I’m most serious. You should know that, Anna. But don’t worry about my patient. You can be sure I shall give her the very best attention. And if the inevitable should happen…”
Her face was close to mine; how her green eyes glittered.
And I thought: She is thinking that if she died the Captain would be free…free for me.
How fond I was of her. But I wanted to explain I could not wish for the death of anyone whatever the advantages were to me.
Twelve
Our first port of call was Gibraltar; I awoke one morning, looked through my porthole and there it was—the great rock rising high out of the water.
I had passed by here before. Years and years ago it seemed, as a child, a little older than Edward; and I remembered how excited I had felt, and how safe because my parents were in the next cabin. I often wondered what Edward felt for his mother; I knew that he considered his father to be some sort of god. Was that because he was a captain and sailed ships round the world, or because of the man himself?
I thought of Chantel’s verdict on Monique; and I wondered about the future, and of Chantel herself—with that aura of fascination which surrounded her. It was not only Rex and the ship’s doctor who were attracted by her; I had seen the glances that came her way. It was not only her beauty—and undoubtedly she had that—it was her vitality, a certain passion within herself; I felt that life with her would always be exciting. I suppose that was how others felt and wanted to share it.
We should be docked for a few hours at Gibraltar and there would be an opportunity to take a trip ashore. Chantel had said that she would have liked to make up a party—say myself and the ship’s doctor and perhaps the First Officer. The Glennings were going off to visit friends ashore. And who wanted to be with the really rather decrepit Mr. and Mrs. Greenall—and even less did one desire the company of Miss
Rundle!
I pointed out that I was here to look after Edward and he would wish to go ashore so I must go with him; and as Mrs. Blakey would be taking Johnny and the two boys wanted to go together I should go with her and Mrs. Malloy.
Chantel grimaced. “What a shame! Poor Anna!” she said lightly.
We had hired a carriage with a driver who would show us the sights. The boys were bouncing on their seats with excitement and poor Lucy Blakey could not restrain Johnny one bit—or perhaps she feared to in the presence of Mrs. Malloy. I felt no such restrictions. I told Johnny to sit still and to the amazement of his mother and aunt he obeyed me; I thought it was an excellent moment to give them a little combined geography and history lesson. Chantel would have laughed at me if she had been there. How I wished she had been.
It was a beautiful day and the sunshine seemed brilliant after the misty dampness of Langmouth.
“It has belonged to us since 1704,” I told Edward.
“To the Creditons?” he asked.
Mrs. Malloy and Mrs. Blakey joined in my laughter. “No, Edward, to Britain.”
Edward was a little puzzled; I was sure he believed that his formidable grandmother owned Britain.
“It is called Gibraltar,” I went on, “after an Arab called Gebel Tarik, who came here long, long ago.”
“Before we did?” asked Johnny.
“Long before we did and he built a castle for himself and he gave the place its name. You see Gebel Tarik became Gibraltar. If you say it quickly you’ll see.”
The boys started shouting together: “Gebel Tarik. Gibraltaric…Gibraltar.”
“You will see the castle soon,” I told them and that silenced them, but when they saw the old Moorish Castle they pointed excitedly to it shouting “Gebel Tarik”; and I said to Mrs. Blakey: “That is something they will remember forever.”
“It’s an excellent way of teaching children,” said Mrs. Malloy graciously. I think she was a little piqued not to have been invited to join one of the other parties and I was sure she was thinking that the two nursery governesses should have been left to manage the children on their own. Poor Lucy Blakey! If one had to be an underling it was so much better to be so outside one’s own family. How much more independent I was now than when I was with Aunt Charlotte.