THE LULL
When you consider how I had parted from the Prince, his subsequent
conduct must be regarded as creditable. After my watch I fell dead
asleep in my bunk, and might have slept till night had it not been for
the sense of discipline possessed and exhibited by his Royal Highness.
He visited me in person, and did me the honour to arouse me from my
dreamless slumber, whereat I sat up cursing.
"It is natural you should feel irritated, Dr. Phillimore," said he
calmly. "But when you come to yourself you will perceive that duty must
be performed. It is your watch."
"Oh, ah!" I blurted forth. "You must excuse me; sir, but I have had a
night of it."
He nodded amiably. "If you will come to my cabin after your watch," he
observed, "I shall have something to say to you."
I do not know that I looked forward to the interview with any interest.
I expected some censure of my conduct earlier in the day, and I was
resolved to defend myself. But the Prince proved mild and even amiable.
He offered me a cigar, and condescended to discuss some points of
policy with me.
"I have been told," said he, "that you have been in the forecastle, and
have seen Mr. Legrand. You think that there is some chance of his
joining us? Well, it is good hearing. I have no doubt that we shall
succeed in destroying the traitors."
"Mr. Morland," said I, leaning forward to him, "I would not like to
leave you in the thought that this is going to be easy."
"Oh, no; it will not be easy," he agreed.
But plainly he was confident that it was possible, which I was not. If
there was any one in that ship that doubted, it was I. I said nothing,
however, but remarked that Holgate was a man of resource and capacity.
"I am willing to believe that," he said after a pause. "He is a very
clever scoundrel. Oh, yes."
"We might be in a better position to counter his plans if we fathom
them," I suggested.
He looked at me, interrogation in his blue eyes, which were, and were
not, so like his sister's.
"The question that puzzles me, sir, is why Holgate did not seize the
saloon and the deck below last night when he had the chance--for down
there is what he wants."
"He had us locked up in the chart-house," replied the Prince with
assurance. "He did not anticipate that we should escape; and the yacht
was running into danger."
Yes; that was the explanation that had occurred to me; indeed, it was
the explanation that hitherto we had all accepted. But was it true?
"It was his intention to possess himself of the papers at his leisure,"
continued Prince Frederic, smoking and gazing at me with the air of a
preceptor instructing a pupil.
"Why should he?" I asked bluntly.
The Prince smiled pleasantly. "I will tell you, Dr. Phillimore," he
answered. "When I left London, and Europe, for good, I instructed my
lawyers to put my property into three forms of goods--drafts on
bankers, Bank of England notes, and English currency. Each kind would
be of service to me, whose destination was not quite settled. But these
would make a bulky load for any man. There is a large amount of specie,
and is it not the Bank of England that says, 'Come and carry what gold
you will away in your pockets provided you give us L5,000'? Well, there
is that difficulty for these villains."
"But," I objected, "do they know how the treasure is made up?"
He cast a dark glance at me. "I have told you," he said, "I trust such
as you in my service, doctor. But there has been treachery. Who I am
and what I carry became known. How, I cannot say. But it was treachery.
The whole thing is a conspiracy," he cried, hammering on the table,
"and it may be that my enemies in Hochburg are at the bottom of it. I
will find out. But, see you, doctor, I am Mr. Morland here and
hereafter. Let that be understood, and it is as Mr. Morland I will hang
these ruffians."
His frown knit his eyebrows closely, and his nostrils heaved, while the
blue eyes were fired with sudden flame. If he had ideas on democracy,
as reports of him had declared, he had also beyond question the temper
of the martinet. It was possible, no doubt, to recognise these strange
contradictions, but at the first sight it seemed difficult. I had yet
to learn that I was dealing with a type of the fanatic, and a
representative of that type, moreover, who exemplified in his blood the
fatalism of his ascendants. Yet the glimpse I had of the man was
interesting. I began to understand him, and even to sympathise with
him. He had foregone much for the sake of an ideal, and that was
something. But just then I should like to have known exactly what his
sister's attitude to that ideal might be. For Princess Alix, strange as
her brother was, was even more baffling than he.
Though we kept a rigid watch all that day and night, no attack was
delivered, and I began once again to speculate as to Holgate's policy.
Was he trying to tire us out before he made his assault, or had he
other ends in view? The second day passed as tranquilly as the first,
and the yacht was still making her best southward. She had passed the
mouth of the Rio La Plata, and was forging along the Argentine coast,
bound for--we knew not whither. Her destination was in other hands, and
we must be content to abide the issues, alert and equipped for any
emergency.
On the second day I revisited the forecastle, with my flag, and found
Holgate as amiable as before.
"You give me your word, doctor, that you have no weapons?" said he,
when I had attended to his wounded men, and was proceeding to the hold
where the prisoners lay.
"I give you my word," I replied.
He nodded, and gave orders for the removal of the hatch; and down I
went, this time unaccompanied. Legrand still lay on his back, staring
vacantly, and the sailors were grouped about, a despondent company, in
that dark and stuffy hole.
"Any improvement?" said I to one of them.
"Not much, sir," said he, with a glance towards the open hatchway,
where, no doubt, one of the mutineers stood on guard.
"Does Mr. Legrand take any nourishment?" I asked.
"A bit, sir, but not too much. He doesn't seem to relish his food," the
man answered.
"Does he talk?" I asked.
"He has spoken about a dozen sentences, sir, but there don't seem much
sense in them."
"Ah, I feared as much," I said. I was certain that Holgate, for all his
lordly air of unconcern, had taken steps to know what was forward in
the hold.
I made another examination, and was the more convinced that there was
nothing seriously the matter with Legrand. This time he frankly grinned
in my face, as I laid him down. No doubt the sailors were in his
secret, and primed for it.
"I daresay I shall have to operate," I said, and, bidding them
farewell, I ascended to the deck.
Holgate waved his hand cheerily at me. "Always glad to see you,
doctor," he called out, and went on with the conversation in which he
was engaged.
I could have whipped myself that I could not guess what his crafty
design was.
But, if I was ignorant, no one was likely to assist me. Barraclough had
no views; all that his purview compassed was the probability of an
immediate fight, to which he looked forward with unconcern. Lane was
ridiculously inept in his suggestions, one of which involved the idea
that Holgate desired to "bag ladies and treasure with one gun." This
suggestion irritated me, and I snubbed him, so far as any one could
snub Lane. The Prince, I knew, was secure in his obstinate conviction,
and naturally Ellison had no views any more than Barraclough. They were
both very excellent examples of pure British phlegm and
unimaginativeness. This seemed to cast the burden upon me, for Pye was
still confined to his cabin. The little man was undoubtedly shaken by
the horrid events he had witnessed, and though he was confessedly a
coward, I could not help feeling sorry for him. He was an abject
creature now, and clung to his bunk, keeping out of the Prince's way
and Barraclough's as much as possible, and pestering me with his
consultations.
"I believe I should be better, doctor, if we were to get into warmer
weather," he said pleadingly. "Cold does affect a man's nerves, doesn't
it?"
"Well, you'll have to make love to Holgate, if you want that," said I
drily. "We're at his mercy."
We were all, I think, conscious of that, if we did not always openly
acknowledge the fact. Yet it was astonishing that no attack was made on
the state-rooms. Holgate had promised it, and had even struck the
shadow of deeper terrors during the concluding words of his interview
in the corridor. But things went on peacefully; the sun rose in blurred
heavens of blue and grey, and declined into rolling waters, and no
event of consequence took place. The bells were sounded as of old; the
wheelman in his armoured turret steered the yacht upon her course, and
every day the _Sea Queen_ drew southward under the ordinary maritime
routine. Were it not for our memories, and for the outward facts of our
predicament, we might have fancied ourselves merely upon a pleasant
excursion.
There was, however, this lacking, that no one knew our destination. The
secret was locked in Holgate's bosom, or perhaps he shared it with one
or more of his desperadoes.
And, as if to lull us into a sense of security and to persuade us that
all was normal, Mademoiselle suddenly developed and exhibited a
remarkable liveliness. She was a thing of moods and impulses,
restrained by no reason or consideration for others, so far as I could
judge. And, having once got the better of her hysteric fear of the
mutiny, she promptly discarded any thought of it. We were prisoners in
our part of the yacht, it is true, but that did not interfere with our
comfort. We had food and wine to spare; we were supplied with every
luxury; and no one gave us any trouble. The guards were set regularly,
but Mademoiselle had no concern with that. I doubt if she even
recognised that such precautions were taken. There was a certain
romance in the situation which appealed to her and inflamed her
imagination. She lived most of the day in her cabins, being tired by
her maid, or playing dominoes or some other childish game; and in the
afternoon she emerged upon us, a glorious figure in fine clothes, and
gave us the benefit of her society.
Naturally she spent much of her time in company with the Prince and his
sister, but Barraclough and myself were by no means denied her favours.
Barraclough spoke French very indifferently--as indifferently, indeed,
as Mademoiselle spoke English, but that did not prevent them from
getting on very well together. As I have explained, Barraclough was a
tall, handsome fellow, lean and inflexible of face, with the
characteristic qualities of his race. His eyes admired the lady
profoundly, and he endeavoured to keep pace with her wits, a task
rendered difficult by the breaches in two languages. This vivacity was
crowned by exhibitions of her voice, to which she began to treat us.
She had, as I remembered, a wonderful mezzo-soprano, and, being pent up
in this comfortable prison, and denied access to the promenade, she
used it to effect. As I have said, the music-room surrounding the
saloon below, as a balcony, was in our suite, if I may put it in that
way, and thither was Mademoiselle accustomed to repair of an afternoon
to keep her voice in practice, as she explained. The Prince usually
followed her there, and I have seen him more than once seated in the
dimness of the farthest corner of the balcony, staring before him as a
man lost in thought, or as one rapt out of himself into some
sentimental ecstasy at the sounds of that divine music. Here we felt,
more or less, that we were in Liberty Hall, and, to do him justice,
Prince Frederic encouraged us to feel this. It was understood that the
saloon was open to all, and it became a resort for such of us as were
off duty in those days--a resort that would have been improved by more
light; for the windows were all barred and shuttered, and only the
skylights admitted the day.
The weather was now grown much colder, for we were off the coast of
Patagonia, and Holgate appeared to be bent on doubling the Horn and
getting into the Pacific. In the wilds of that wide domain there would
be more chances for this crew of scoundrels to find refuge and security
from the arm of the law. Was it for this he was waiting? And yet that
was no argument against an immediate attack, for it was clear that he
might get the business over, deal with us as he chose, and make for his
destination afterwards and at his leisure. Nor could it be that he
doubted as to the issue of the struggle, for his forces outnumbered
ours greatly, and, if I knew anything of men, Holgate was utterly
without fear. But, on the other hand, he had a great deal of
discretion. The only conclusion that emerged from these considerations
was the certainty that in the end Holgate had decreed our fate. _That_
had been settled when Day fell, perhaps even before that, and when poor
McCrae was shot by his engines. We were doomed to death.
If any doubt as to our fate dwelt in Princess Alix's mind she did not
show it. She was a girl of spirit and energy, and she had neat hands.
Thus her time was spent in such work as she deemed useful in the
circumstances, or such as occupied her mind healthily. She made a
handsome fur cap for herself against the biting wind, which now came
snapping off the icy highlands of the coast, and she sketched, and
designed, and photographed. Above all, she was cheerful and
self-reliant. There was not much in common between the brother and the
sister save perhaps their aloofness from strangers. I questioned much
if the Princess had any of her brother's sentimentality. She had all
her brother's decision and fire, however, as I was to see exemplified
more than once.
It was on the third of our quiet afternoons that I was sitting in the
corridor with a volume in my hand, conscious merely of the many sounds
in that silence, and scarcely aware of what I read. The voyage seemed
to partake of the nature of that fabled voyage of the ancient mariner.
Some strange doom hung over us all, and yet the sky smiled, as it did
that moment, and the cold breath of the blue sea was inspiring in one's
nostrils like wine in the blood. I was aware in this dream that a door
had opened and shut, and that the Princess had come into the corridor.
She sat on a chair not far from me and plied her needles in a way that
struck me now, as I roused myself, as very homely and pleasant. I shot
a glance at her. She was very simply dressed in what, for all I know,
may have been a very extravagant fashion. She had the knitted waistcoat
she was making (I concluded for her brother) across her knee, and I had
a full view of her as she swayed and moved about her task. Those
flowing lines, that sweet ripeness, the excellent beauty of her face,
impressed me newly. She met my glance, and smiled.
"What do you find interests you, Dr. Phillimore?" she asked in her
pleasant voice.
"I was reading, or pretending to read, a book of poems," I answered.
"Poems," she replied, plying her needles, and then in a little, "It is
strange you should be reading poems and I knitting here."
"It puzzles me," said I. I rose and went to the window behind her which
was not shuttered, and for the light from which she had seated herself
there. The crisp sparkle of the sea rose to eyes and ears. When I
turned, Princess Alix had ceased from her work and was looking towards
me.
"You wonder why?" she asked.
"I have made many guesses, but have never satisfied myself yet why the
mutiny is not pushed to its logical conclusion."
"Which would mea----" she said thoughtfully.
"Which would mean," I interrupted quickly, "the possession of the
treasure."
There was something deeply significant in her gaze, something that was
brave, and appealed, and winced at the same time. She went on slowly
with her knitting.
"He is waiting his time," she remarked in a low voice.
"He will wait too long," I said with a little laugh.
"Do you think so?" she asked, and, laying down her work, went to the
window as I had done. "It is cold."
"We are off an icy shore," I said.
"Yes, I found it on the map this morning," she nodded. "We are close to
the Straits of Magellan!"
At that moment the sound of the piano sailed through the door at the
end of the corridor. She turned her head slightly, and then moved away
restlessly. She went to the chair on which I had been sitting and
picked up my Tennyson.
"I know him pretty well," she remarked, turning the pages. She halted
where I had inserted a marker.
"'The Princess,'" she said slowly. She drummed her fingers on the leaf,
read for a minute or two, and dropped the book lightly. "We have no
literature in comparison with yours, Dr. Phillimore; but we have
sometimes done better than that."
"Oh, not than the lyrics," I protested lightly. "_Ask me no more_----"
The music from without broke into louder evidence, and she turned
frowning towards the door.
"Do you know, Dr. Phillimore," she asked hesitatingly, "if Mr. Morland
is in his room?"
"He went after lunch," I answered. She stood considering.
"Mademoiselle has a beautiful voice," I said tentatively.
"Oh, yes," she assented. "It is of good quality and training." Her tone
was curt, as if she were unwilling to continue the conversation, but
she still listened.
Einsam Wandelt dein Freund im Fruehlings garten.
It seemed to me that I could almost hear the words in that uplifted
music. The song has always been a passionate fancy of mine, beguiling
the heart of rock to romance. Sentiment is on wing in every corner of
one's consciousness when that song rises in its fulness and falls in
its cadences on one's ears and deeper senses.
In der Spiegelnden Fluth, in Schnee der Alpen....
... strahlt dein Bildniss.
I could see Mademoiselle Trebizond at the piano with the vision of the
mind, her soul enrapt, her features transfigured. She was a figment of
the emotions. And the Princess and I listened, she with a little
dubitating look of perplexity, paying me no heed now, and I singularly
moved. I walked down the corridor, past where Princess Alix stood, and
as I went by I could have put out my arm and drawn her to me. She was
wonderful in her beauty and her pride.
Deutlich schimmert auf jedem purpur blaettchen.
But I went by and opened the door that gave upon the saloon stairs.
Instantly the flood of music rolled into the room in a tide, and,
glancing back, I saw the Princess stir. She came towards me.
"A voice is a beautiful machine," she said uncertainly as the notes
died away.
I could not answer; but she may have read an answer in my eyes. She
passed me just as the singer broke into something new, and entered the
music gallery. A shaft of light struck out her figure boldly. I walked
round to the second door at the head of the stairs. Right away in the
corner was Mademoiselle, and by her Sir John Barraclough lounged on the
sofa, stroking his moustache uneasily. But my eyes lingered on the two
not at all, for they were drawn forthwith to another sight which filled
me with astonishment. The barriers had been removed from several of the
windows, the windows themselves were open, and I could discern the
figures of men gathered without on the deck.
With an exclamation I ran forward, interrupting the mellifluous course
of Schubert's Serenade, and Barraclough started to his feet.
"What is it?" he asked abruptly.
Mademoiselle turned on her stool and regarded me with curiosity, and
behind the Princess was approaching slowly.
"The windows, man!" said I.
Mademoiselle burst into laughter. "It was so dark," she said prettily,
"I could not see plainly. I must always have light when I play. And I
made Sir John open them."
Barraclough fidgeted, but turned a cold face on me.
"What's all the fuss about?" he asked surlily.
I pointed to the figures which we could see through the open windows.
"Well, that's my business," he said shortly. "I'm in command, and I'm
not a fool." As he spoke he fingered his revolver.
"Oh, do not be afraid. It is all right," said Mademoiselle cheerfully.
"See, we will have more open. I will play them something. They are
listening to my music. It will soothe them."
She cast a look at Sir John from her laughing dark eyes, and let her
hands down on the keys with a bang, breaking into a jolly air of the
boulevards.
"Stay," she cried, stopping quickly, "but I know one of your English
tunes suitable for the sea. How do you call it? Tom-bolling!"
As she spoke she swerved softly into that favourite air, the English
words running oddly from her lips.
"'Ere a sheer 'ulk lies poor Tom Bo-olling..."
From the deck came a burst of applause. She laughed in delight, and
winked up at me.
"I can do more with them than your guns," she said boldly, and was
sailing into the next verse when the Princess intervened.
"Mademoiselle," she said in French, "you are inconveniencing the
officers. They have much to do."
Mademoiselle turned about angrily and met the Princess' gaze. She
seemed about to fly out in a tempest, but as suddenly checked herself,
leaving only a little frown on her forehead to witness to her
annoyance. She had been engaged in a little triumph that suited her
vanity, and she had been called away from it. I really do not think
there was anything more than that in it--not then, at any rate. She
rose.
"You are a tyrant, my princess," she said, and nodding sweetly to
Barraclough and myself, left the gallery.
Princess Alix followed, her face pale and still. More than ever was I
convinced that, whatever feelings the lady had inspired in the Prince,
his sister was not party to them.