Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: Hosier tightened a protecting arm around her waist]
THE STOWAWAY GIRL
By
LOUIS TRACY
AUTHOR OF
THE WINGS OF THE MORNING, SON OF THE IMMORTALS, CYNTHIA'S CHAUFFEUR,THE MESSAGE, THE SILENT BARRIER, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
NESBIT BENSON
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1909, 1912,
By EDWARD J. CLODE
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. THE "ANDROMEDA" II. WHEREIN THE "ANDROMEDA" BEGINS HER VOYAGE III. WHEREIN THE "ANDROMEDA" NEARS THE END OF HER VOYAGE IV. SHOWING WHAT BECAME OF THE "ANDROMEDA" V. THE REFUGEES VI. BETWEEN THE BRAZILIAN DEVIL AND THE DEEP ATLANTIC VII. CROSS PURPOSES VIII. THE RIGOR OF THE GAME IX. WHEREIN CERTAIN PEOPLE MEET UNEXPECTEDLY X. ON THE HIGH SEAS XI. A LIVELY MORNING IN EXCHANGE BUILDINGS XII. THE LURE OF GOLD XIII. THE NEW ERA XIV. CARMELA XV. SHOWING HOW BRAZIL CHOSE HER PRESIDENT XVI. WHEREIN THE PRESIDENT PRESIDES
ILLUSTRATIONS
Hosier tightened a protective arm around her waist . . . _Frontispiece_
"Is that the Southern Cross?"
"How did I come here?"
"Well, gimme your 'and on it"
A withering volley crashed through the window
THE STOWAWAY
CHAPTER I
THE "ANDROMEDA"
"Marry Mr. Bulmer! That horrid old man! Uncle, what _are_ you saying?"
The girl sprang to her feet as if she were some timid creature of thewild aroused from sylvan broodings by knowledge of imminent danger. Inher terror, she upset the three wineglasses that formed part of thedisplay beside each _couvert_ on the luncheon table. One, rose-tintedand ornate, crashed to the floor, and the noise seemed to irritate theowner of Linden House more than his niece's shrill terror.
"No need to bust up our best set of 'ock glasses just because I 'appento mention owd Dickey Bulmer," he growled.
The color startled so suddenly out of the girl's face began to return.Her eyes lost their dilation of fear. Somehow, the comment on thebroken glass seemed to deprive "owd Dickey Bulmer's" personality of itsreal menace.
"I'm sorry," she said, and stooped to pick up the fragments scatteredover the carpet.
"Leave that alone," came the sharp order. "So long as I've the brassto pay for 'em, there's plenty more where that kem from, an' in anycase, it's the 'ousemaid's job. Leave it alone, I tell you! An' sitdown. It's 'igh time you an' me 'ad a straight talk, an' I can't dowi' folk bouncin' about like an injia-rubber ball when I've got thingsto say to 'em."
He stretched a fat hand toward a mahogany cigar-box, affected to choosea cigar with deliberative crackling, hacked at the selection with afruit knife, and dropped the severed end into an unused finger-bowl;then he struck a match, and puffed furiously until a rim of white ashtipped the brown. This achieved, he helped himself to the port.Though he carefully avoided glancing at his companion, he knew quitewell that she had drawn a chair to the opposite end of the table, andwas looking at him intently; her chin was propped on her clenchedhands; the skin on her white forehead was puckered into nervous lines;her lips, pressed close, had lost their Cupid's bow that seemed everready to bend into a smile. Meanwhile, the man who had caused thesesigns of distress gulped down some of the wine, held the glass up tothe light as a tribute to the excellence of its contents, darted histongue several times in and out between his teeth, smacked his lips,replaced the cigar in his mouth, and leaned back in his chair until itcreaked.
Iris Yorke was accustomed to this ritual; she gave it the unobservanttolerance good breeding extends to the commonplace. But to-day, forthe first time during the two years that had sped so happily since shecame back to Linden House from a Brussels _pension_, she found herself,even in her present trouble, wondering how it was possible that DavidVerity could be her mother's brother. This coarse-mannered hog of aman, brother to the sweet-voiced, tender-hearted gentlewoman whosegracious wraith was left undimmed in the girl's memory by the lapse ofyears--it would be unbelievable if it were not true! He was so gross,so tubby, so manifestly over-fed, whereas her mother had ever beenelegant and _bien soignee_. But he had shown kindness to her in hisdomineering way. He was not quite so illiterate as his accent and hisgeneral air of uncouthness seemed to imply. In his speech, the broadvowels of the Lancashire dialect were grafted on to the clippedstaccato of a Cockney. He would scoff at anyone who told him thatknives and forks had precise uses, or that table-napkins were not meantto be tucked under the chin. In England, especially in the provinces,some men of affairs cultivate these minor defects, deeming them tokensof bluff honesty, the hall-marks of the self-made; and David Veritythought, perhaps, that his pretty, well-spoken niece might be trustedto maintain the social level of his household without any specialeffort on his part.
Shocked, almost, at the disloyalty of her thoughts, Iris tried to closethe rift that had opened so unexpectedly.
"It was stupid of me to take you seriously," she said. "You cannotreally mean that Mr. Bulmer wishes to marry me?"
Verity screwed up his features into an amiable grin. He pressed thetips of his fingers together until the joints bent backward. When hespoke, the cigar waggled with each syllable.
"I meant it right enough, my lass," he said.
"But, uncle dear----"
"Stop a bit. Listen to me first, an' say your say when I've finished.Like everybody else, you think I'm a rich man. David Verity, Esquire,ship-owner, of Linden House an' Exchange Buildings--it looks all right,don't it--like one of them furrin apples with rosy peel an' a maggotinside. You're the first I've told about the maggot. Fact is, I'mbroke. Ship-ownin' is rotten nowadays, unless you've lots of capital.I've lost mine. Unless I get help, an' a thumpin' big slice of it, myname figures in the _Gazette_. I want fifty thousand pounds, an' oo'sgoin' to give it to me? Not the public. They're fed up on shippin'.They're not so silly as they used to be. I put it to owd Dickeyyesterday, an' 'e said you couldn't raise money in Liverpool to-day tobuild a ferry-boat. But 'e said summat else. If you wed 'im, 'e makesyou a partner in the firm of Verity, Bulmer an' Co. See? Wot's wrongwith that? I've done everything for you up to date; now it's yourturn. Simple, isn't it? P'raps I ought to have explained thingsdifferently, but it didn't occur to me you'd hobject to bein' the wifeof a millionaire, even if 'e is a doddrin' owd idiot to talk ofmarryin' agin."
"Oh, uncle!"
With a wail of despair, the girl sank back and covered her face withher hands. Now that she believed the incredible, she could utter noprotest. The sacrifice demanded was too great. In that bitter momentshe would have welcomed poverty, prayed even for death, as thealternative to marriage with the man to whom she was being sold.
Verity leaned over the table again and finished the glass of port.This time there was no lip-smacking, or other aping of the connoisseur.He was angry, almost alarmed. Resistance, even of this passive sort,raised the savage in him. Hitherto, Iris had been ready to obey hisslightest whim.
"There's no use cryin' 'Oh, uncle,' an' kicking up a fuss," he snappedviciously. "Where would you 'ave bin, I'd like to know, if it wasn'tfor me? In the gutter--that's where your precious fool of a fatherleft your mother an' you. You're the best dressed, an' best lookin',an' best eddicated girl i' Bootle to-day--thanks to me. When yourmother kem 'ere ten year ago, an' said her lit'rary gent of a 'usbandwas dead, neither of you 'ad 'ad a square meal for weeks--rememberthat, will you? It isn't my fault you've got to marry Bulmer. It'sjust a bit of infernal bad luck--the same for both of us, if it comesto that. An' why shouldn't you 'ave some of the sours after I'
ve givenyou all the sweets? You'll 'ave money to burn; I'm not axin' you togive up some nice young feller for 'im. If you play your cards well,you can 'ave all the fun you want----"
The girl staggered to her feet. She could endure the man's coarsenessbut not his innuendoes.
"I will do what you ask," she murmured, though there was a pitifulquivering at the corners of her mouth that bespoke an agony beyond therelief of tears. "But please don't say any more, and never againallude to my dear father in that way, or I may--I may forget what I oweyou."
She was unconscious of the contempt in her eyes, the scornful ring inher voice, and Verity had the good sense to restrain the wrath thatbubbled up in him until the door closed, and he was alone. He grabbedthe decanter and refilled his glass.
"Nice thing!" he growled. "I offer 'er a fortune an' a bald-'eaded owddevil for a 'usband, 'oo ought to die in a year or two an' leave 'ereverything; yet she ain't satisfied. D--n 'er eyes, if I'd keep 'er asscullery-maid she'd 'ave different notions."
With the taste of the wine, however, came the consoling reflection thatIris as a scullery-maid might not tickle the fancy of the dotard whohad undertaken to provide fifty thousand pounds for the newpartnership. And she had promised--that was everything. His lack ofdiplomacy was obvious even to himself, but he had won where a man offiner temperament might have failed. Now, he must rush the wedding.Dickey Bulmer's Lancashire canniness might stipulate for cash ondelivery as the essence of the marriage contract. Not a penny wouldthe old miser part with until he was sure of the girl.
So David Verity, having much to occupy his mind, lingered over thesecond glass of port, for this was a Sunday dinner, served at mid-day.At last he closed his eyes for his customary nap; but sleep was not tobe wooed just then; instead of dozing, he felt exceedingly wide awake.Indeed, certain disquieting calculations were running through hisbrain, and he yielded forthwith to their insistence. Taking a smallnotebook from his pocket, he jotted down an array of figures. He wasso absorbed in their analysis that he did not see Iris walk listlesslyacross the lawn that spread its summer greenery in front of thedining-room windows. And that was an ill thing for David. The sightof the girl at that instant meant a great deal to him.
He did happen to look out, a second too late.
Even then, he might have caught a glimpse of Iris's pink muslin skirtdisappearing behind a clump of rhododendrons, were not his shifty eyesscrewed up in calculation--or perchance, the gods blinded him in behalfof one who was named after Juno's bright messenger.
"Yes, that's it," he was thinking. "I must wheedle Dickey into thebank to-morrow. A word from 'im, an' they'll all grovel, d--n 'em!"
The door opened.
"Captain Coke to see you, sir," said a servant.
"Send 'im in; bring 'im in 'ere."
The memorandum book disappeared; Verity's hearty greeting was that of aman who had not a care in the world. His visitor's description waswrit large on him by the sea. No one could possibly mistake CaptainCoke for any other species of captain than that of master mariner. Hewas built on the lines of a capstan, short and squat and powerful.Though the weather was hot, he wore a suit of thick navy-blue sergethat would have served his needs within the Arctic Circle. It clungtightly to his rounded contours; there was a purple line on his redbrows that marked the exceeding tightness of the bowler hat he wascarrying; and the shining protuberances on his black boots showed thatthey were tight, too. It was manifestly out of the question that heshould be able to walk any distance. Though he had driven in a cab tothe shipowner's house, he was already breathless with exertion, and herolled so heavily in his gait that his shoulders hit both sides of thedoorway while entering the room. Yet he was nimble withal, a mancapable of swift and sure movement within a limited area, thereinresembling a bull, or a hippopotamus.
The hospitable Verity pushed forward the mahogany box and the decanter.
"Glad to see you, Jimmie, my boy. Sit yourself down. 'Ave a cigar an'a glass o' port. I didn't expect you quite so soon, but you're just aswelcome now as later."
Captain Coke placed his hat on top of a malacca cane, and balanced bothagainst the back of a chair.
"I'll take a smoke but no wine, thankee, Mr. Verity," said he. "I kemalong now' 'coss I want to be aboard afore it's dark. We're moored inan awkward place."
"Poor owd _Andromeeda_! Just 'er usual luck, eh, Jimmie?"
"Well, she ain't wot you might call one of fortune's fav'rits, butshe's afloat, an' that's more'n you can say for a good manydaisy-cutters I've known."
Verity chuckled.
"Some ships are worth less afloat than ashore, an' she's one of 'em,"he grinned. "You want a match. 'Ere you are!"
Whether Coke was wishful to deny or admit the _Andromeda's_shortcomings--even the ship herself might have protested against thehorror of a long "e" in the penultimate syllable of her name--the otherman's rapid proffer of a light stopped him. He puffed away in silence;there was an awkward pause; for once in his career, Verity regrettedhis cultivated trick of covering up a significant phrase by quicklyadding some comment on a totally different subject. But the sailorsmoked on, stolidly heedless of a sudden lapse in the conversation, andthe shipowner was compelled to start afresh. He was far too shrewd togo straight back to the topic burked by his own error. Hissledge-hammer methods might be crude to the verge of brutality whereIris was concerned, but they were capable of nice adjustment in thecase of wary old sea-dogs of the Coke type.
"It's stuffy in 'ere with the two of us smokin'--let's stroll into thegarden," he said.
Coke was agreeable. He liked gardens; they were a change from thepurple sea.
"It's the on'y bit of green stuff you seem to be fond of, Mr. Verity,"he went on. "You keep us crool short of vegetables."
David's little eyes twinkled. Here was another opening; it would notbe his fault if it led again up a _cul-de-sac_. He threw wide thewindow, and they crossed the lawn.
"Vegetables!" he cried. "Wish I could stock you from my place, an' I'dstuff you with 'em. I can grow 'em 'ere for next to nothing, but theycost a heap o' money in furrin ports, an' _your_ crimson wave-catcherdoesn't earn money--she eats it."
"Even that's one better'n her skipper, 'oo doesn't do neether,"commented Coke gloomily.
His employer seemed to find much humor in the remark.
"Gad, we both look starved!" he guffawed. "To 'ear us, you'd think wewas booked for the workhus or till you ran a tape round the contoor,eh?"
But Coke was not to be cheered.
"I can see as far into a stone wall as 'ere a one an' there a one," hesaid, "an' there's no use blinkin' the fax. The _Andromeda_ was a goodship in 'er day, but that day is gone. You ought to 'ave sold 'er tothe Dutchmen five years ago, Mr. Verity. Times were better then, an'now you'd 'ave a fine steel ship instead of a box of scrap iron."
They were passing the rhododendrons, and Verity's quick eyes noted thata summer-house beneath the shade of two venerable elms was unoccupied.The structure consisted of a rustic roof carried on half a dozenuprights; it had a wooden floor, and held a table and some basketchairs. The roof and supports were laden with climbing roses, aVirginian creeper, and a passion flower. The day being Sunday, therewere no gardeners in the adjoining shrubbery or rose garden, and anyoneseated in the summer-house could see on all sides.
"Drop anchor in 'ere, Coke," said Verity. "It's cool an' breezy, an'we can 'ave a quiet confab without bein' bothered. Now, I reelly sentfor you to-day to tell you I mean to better the supplies thistrip--Yes, honest Injun!"--for the _Andromeda's_ skipper had clutchedthe cigar out of his mouth with the expression of a man who vows toheaven that he cannot believe his ears--"I'm goin' to bung in an extry'undred to-morrow in the way of stores. Funny, isn't it?"
"Funny! It's a meracle!"
Though not altogether gratified by this whole-hearted agreement withhis own views, Verity was too anxious to keep his hearer on the presenttack to resent any implied slur on his earlier efforts a
s a caterer.
"It's nothing to wot I'd do if I could afford it," he added graciously."But, as you said, let's look at the fax. Wot chance 'as an iron ship,built twenty years ago, at a cost of sixteen pound a ton, ag'in a steelship of to-day, at seven pound a ton, with twiced the cargo space, an'three feet less draught? W'y no earthly. We're dished every way. Wecost more to run; we can't jump 'arf the bars; we can't carry 'arf thestuff; we pay double insurance; an' we're axed to find interest onmore'n double the capital. As you say, Jimmie, wot bloomin' chanst'ave we?"
Coke smoked silently; he had said none of these things, but when theshipowner's glance suddenly dwelt on him, he nodded. Silentacquiescence on his part, however, was not what Verity wanted. He,too, knew when to hold his tongue. After a long interval, during whicha robin piped a merry roundelay from the depths of a neighboring pinkhawthorn, Coke dug out a question.
"Premium gone up, then?" he inquired.
"She's on a twelve-month rate. It runs out in September. If you'relucky, an' fill up with nitrate soon, you may be 'ome again. If not,I'll 'ave to whack up a special quotation. After that, there'll be noinsurance. The _Andromeeda_ goes for wot she'll fetch."
Another pause; then Coke broached a new phase.
"Meanin' that I lose the two thousand pounds I put in 'er to get myberth?" he said huskily.
"An' wot about me? _I_ lose eight times as much. Just think of it!Sixteen thousand pounds would give me a fair balance to go on wi' i'these hard times, an' your two thou' would make the skipper's job in mynew ship a certainty."
Coke's brick-red face darkened. He breathed hard.
"Wot new ship?" he demanded.
Verity smiled knowingly.
"It's a secret, Jimmie, but I must stretch a point for a pal's sake.Dickey Bulmer's goin' to marry my niece, an' 'e 'as pledged himself todouble the capital of the firm. Now I've let the cat out of the bag.I'm sorry, ole man--pon me soul, I am--but w'en Dickey's name crops upon 'Change you know as well as me 'ow many captain's tickets will bebacked wi' t' brass."
This time, if so minded, the robin might have trilled his song _adagiocon sostenuto_ without fear of interruption by those harsh voices.Neither man spoke during so long a time that the break seemed to imposea test of endurance; in such a crisis, he who has all at stake willyield rather than he who only stakes a part.
"S'pose we talk plainly as man to man?" said Coke thickly, at last.
"_I_ can't talk much plainer," said Verity.
"Yes, you can. Promise me the command of your next ship, an' theAndromeda goes on the rocks this side o' Monte Video."
Verity jumped as though he had been stung by an infuriated wasp.
"Coke, I'm surprised at you," he grunted, not without a sharp glancearound to make sure no other was near.
"No, you ain't, not a bit surprised, on'y you don't like to 'ear it incold English. That's wot you're drivin' at--the insurance."
"Shut up, you ijjit. Never 'eard such d--d rot in all me born days."
"Listen to it now, then. It's good to 'ave the truth tole you sometimes. Wot are you afraid of? I take all the risk an' precious littleof the money. Write me a letter----"
"Write! Me! Coke, you're loony."
"Not me. Wait till I'm through. Write a letter sayin' you're sorrythe _Andromeda_ must be laid up this fall, but promisin' me the nextvacancy. 'Ow does that 'urt _you_?"
Verity's cigar had gone out. He relighted it with due deliberation; itcould not be denied that his nerve, at least, was superb.
"I'm willin' to do anything in reason," he said slowly. "I don't seewhere I can lay 'ands on a better man than you, Jimmie, even if you_do_ talk nonsense at times. You know the South American trade, an'you know me. By gad, I'll do that. Anyhow, it's wot you deserve, butnone the less, I'm actin' as a reel friend, now ain't I? Many a manwould just lay you up alongside the _Andromeeda_."
"I'll call at your office in the mornin' for the letter," said Coke,whose red face shone like the setting sun seen through a haze.
"Yes, yes. I'll 'ave it ready."
"An' you won't back out of them extry stores? I must sweeten the crewon this run."
"I'll supply the best of stuff--enough to last for the round trip. Butdon't make any mistake. You must be back afore September 30th. That'sthe date of the policy. Now let's trot inside, an' my gal--Mrs. DickeyBulmer that is to be--will give you some tea."
"Tea!" snorted Coke.
"Well, there's whisky an' soda on tap if you prefer it. It _is_ rather'ot for tea. Whew! you're boilin'? W'y don't you wear looser clo'es?Look at me--cool as a cucumber. By the way, 'oo's the new man you'veshipped as second? Watts is the chief, I know, but 'oo is Mr. PhilipHozier?"
"Youngster fillin' in sea-service to get a ticket an' qualify for theCunard."
"Thoroughly reliable sort of chap, eh?"
"The best."
It was odd how these men left unsaid the really vital things. Again itwas Coke who tried to fill in some part of the blank space.
"Just the right kind of second for the _Andromeda's_ last cruise," hemuttered. "Smart as a new pin. You could trust 'im on the bridge of abattleship. Now, Watts is a good man, but a tot of rum makes 'im fairdaft."
"Ah!" purred Verity, "you must keep a tight 'and on Watts. I like anappetizer meself w'en I'm off dooty, so to speak, but it's no joke to'ave a boozer in charge of a fine ship an' vallyble freight. Ofcourse, you're responsible as master, but you can't be on deck mornin',noon, an' night. Choke Watts off the drink, an' you'll 'ave notrouble. So that's settled. My, but you're fair meltin'--wot is itthey say--losin' adipose tisher. Well, come along. Let's lubricate."
* * * * * *
The _Andromeda_ sailed on the Tuesday afternoon's tide. She would dropthe pilot off Holyhead, and, with fair weather, such as cheered herdeparture from the Mersey, daybreak on Thursday would find her poundingthrough the cross seas where St. George's Channel merges into the wideAtlantic. If she followed the beaten track on her long run to theRiver Plate--as sailors will persist in miscalling that wondrous Rio dela Plata--she might be signaled from Madeira or the Cape Verde Islands.But shipmasters often prefer to set a course clear of the land tillthey pick up the coast of South America. If she were not spoken bysome passing steamer, there was every possibility that the sturdy oldvessel would not be heard of again before reaching her destination.
* * * * * *
But David Verity heard of her much sooner, and no thunderbolt that everrent the heavens could have startled him more than the manner of thathearing.
Resolving to clinch matters with regard to Iris and her elderly suitor,he invited "Owd Dickey" to supper on Sunday evening. The girl enduredthe man's presence with a placid dignity that amazed her uncle. On theplea of a headache, she retired at an early hour, leaving Bulmer togloat over his prospective happiness, and primed to the point ofdementia.
He was quite willing to accompany Verity to the bank next morning; apleasant-spoken manager sighed his relief when the visitors were gone,and he was free to look at the item "bills discounted" on Verity's pagein the ledger. More than that, a lawyer was instructed to draw up apartnership deed, and the representatives of various ship-buildingfirms were asked to supply estimates for two new vessels.
Altogether Dickey was complaisant, and David enjoyed a busy andsuccessful day. He dined in town, came home at a late hour, and merelygrinned when a servant told him that Mr. Bulmer had called twice butMiss Iris happened to be out on both occasions.
Nevertheless, at breakfast on Tuesday, he warned his niece not to keepher admirer dangling at arm's length.
"E's a queer owd codger," explained the philosopher. "Play up to 'im abit, an' you'll be able to twist 'im round your little finger. Ib'lieve he's goin' dotty, an' you can trust me to see that the marriagesettlement is O. K."
"Will you be home to dinner?" was her response.
"No. Now that the firm is in smoo
th water again I must show myself abit. It's all thanks to you, lass, an' I'll not forget it. Good-by!"
Iris smiled, and Verity was vastly pleased.
"I am sure you will not forget," she said. "Good-by."
"There's no understandin' wimmin," mused David, as his victoria sweptthrough the gates of Linden House. "Sunday afternoon Dickey might ha'bin a dose of rat poison; now she's ready to swaller 'im as if 'e was achocolate drop."
Again he returned some few minutes after midnight; again the servantannounced Mr. Bulmer's visits, three of them; and again Miss Iris hadbeen absent--in fact, she had not yet come home.
"Not 'ome!" cried David furiously. "W'y it's gone twelve. W'erethe--w'ere is she?"
No one knew. She had quitted the house soon after Verity himself, andhad not been seen since. Storm and rage as he might, and did, Davidcould not discover his niece's whereabouts. He spent a wearying andtortured night, a harassed and miserable day, devoted to franticinquiries in every possible direction with interludes of specious lyingto the infatuated Bulmer. But enlightment came on Thursday morning. Aletter arrived by the first post. It was from Iris.
"MY DEAR UNCLE," she wrote: "Neither you nor Mr. Bulmer should have anyobjection to my passing the few remaining weeks of my liberty in themanner best pleasing to myself. On Sunday evening, in your presence,Mr. Bulmer urged me to fix an early date for our marriage. Tell himthat I shall marry him when the _Andromeda_ returns to England fromSouth America. You will remember that you promised last year to takeme to Rio de Janeiro and Buenos Ayres this summer; I have been learningSpanish so as to help our sight-seeing. Unfortunately, businessprevents you from keeping that promise, but there is no reason why Ishould not go. I am on board the _Andromeda_, and will probably beable to explain matters satisfactorily to Captain Coke. The vessel isdue back at the end of September, I believe, so Mr. Bulmer will nothave long to wait. It is more than likely that Captain Coke will notknow I am aboard until Thursday, and I have arranged with a friend thatthis letter shall reach you about the same time. Please convey myapologies to Mr. Bulmer, and accept my regret for any anxiety you mayhave felt owing to my unaccountable absence.
"Your affectionate niece,
"IRIS YORKE."
David narrowly escaped an apoplectic seizure. When he recovered hissenses he looked ten years older. The instinct of self-preservationalone saved him in his frenzy from blurting forth the tidings of thegirl's flight. Incoherent with fear and passion, he contrived to giveorders for his carriage, and was driven to his office. Thence hedispatched telegrams to every signaling station in England, Ireland,and Spain, at which by the remotest possibility the _Andromeda_ mightbe intercepted. He cabled to Madeira and Cape Verde, even to FernandoNoronha and Pernambuco; he sent urgent instructions to the pilotageauthorities of the Bristol Channel, the southwest ports, and Lisbon;and the text of every message was: "_Andromeda_ must return toLiverpool instantly."
But the wretched man realized that he was doomed. Fate had struck athim mercilessly. He could only wait in dumb despair, and mutterprayers too long forgotten, and concoct bogus letters from a cousin'saddress in the south of England for the benefit of Dickey Bulmer.
Never was ship more eagerly sought than the _Andromeda_, yet never wasship more completely engulfed in the mysterious silence of the greatsea. The days passed, and the weeks, yet nothing was heard of her.She figured in the "overdue" list at Lloyd's; sharp-eyed underwritersdid "specs" in her; woe-begone women began to haunt the Liverpooloffice for news of husbands and sons; the love-lorn Dickey wore Verityto a shadow of his former self by alternate pleadings and threats; butthe _Andromeda_ remained mute, and the fanciful letters from Irisbecame fewer and more fragmentary as David's imagination failed, andhis excuses grew thinner.
And the odd thing was that if David had only known it, he could havesaved himself all this heart-burning and misery by looking through thedining-room window on that Sunday afternoon when his prospects seemedto be so rosy. He never thought of that. He cursed every circumstanceand person impartially and fluently, but he omitted from the Sataniclitany the one girlish prank of tree-climbing that led Iris to springout of sight amid the sheltering arms of an elm when her uncle andCaptain Coke deemed the summer-house a suitable place for "a plain talkas man to man."
So David learnt what it meant to wait, and listen, and startexpectantly when postman's knock or telegraph messenger's imperativesummons sounded on door of house or office.
But he waited long in vain. The _Andromeda_, like her namesake of old,might have been chained to a rock on some mythical island guarded bythe father of all sea serpents. As for a new Perseus, well--David knewhim not.