'AN OCEAN WAIF'
From the time the men had sheeted home the topsails as the _Emperor of
the Moon_ got under way until now when, having left the Cape of Good
Hope behind her, she was travelling through the water at a very fair
speed and with her head set due north, scarcely anything had occurred
much worthy of note. Soon--after the first two days had passed, during
which time Bella had lain flat in her berth in the large roomy cabin
provided for her by her uncle, while his wife had administered to her
odd glasses of champagne, little cups of rich, succulent soup, and
such like delicacies--the girl was able to reach the deck. And, once
there and under an awning stretched from the ensign staff to past the
mizzen-mast, she would sit and meditate for hours on the forthcoming
meeting with her lover which was drawing nearer and nearer with each
plunge of the Emperor's forefoot into the sapphire sea. Sometimes,
too, she would read aloud a novel to Mrs. Pooley, who, perhaps because
she was good and motherly, and fat, would listen to nothing but the
most romantic love-stories which the vivid brains of fashionable
novelists could turn out; though, when alone, and reading for her own
amusement, Bella would pore over books of adventure in wild parts of
the world, or devour some of the histories of marine voyages which her
uncle possessed in his neat mahogany bookcases below.
Of Stephen Charke she saw, of course, a good deal, as it was natural
she should do. You cannot be in a ship, however large or small,
without seeing much of all on board; but when it comes to sitting down
every twenty-four hours to what Captain Pooley called 'four square
meals a day, with intervals between for refreshments,' you must not
only be brought into constant touch with your companions, but also
enter into much discourse with them. Yet, as the girl told herself,
Charke was behaving well, extremely well; so that, gradually, she lost
all sense of discomfort that would otherwise have arisen through being
thrown continuously into his society, and, ere long, she would observe
his approach without the slightest tremor of susceptibility. Soon,
too, she began to acknowledge to herself that Stephen was a gentleman
in his feelings, and that, no matter what his sentiments might be
towards her--if they existed still and were unchanged from what they
had once been--he at least knew how to exercise that control over them
which a gentleman should be capable of. Until now, he had never said
one word to her that any other person might not have uttered who had
found himself thrown into her society on board the _Emperor of the
Moon_, nor had he unduly sought her presence or, being in it,
endeavoured to remain there as long as it was possible.
Nothing of much note had occurred thus far on the voyage, it has been
said; yet there had of course been some of those incidents without
which no voyage of any distance is ever made. Once through the Bay,
and, while they ran swiftly south, they had found themselves in a
dense fog--a most unusual thing in such a latitude and at such a time
of year; then, upon the top of that fog, there had sprung up a stiff
breeze which gradually developed into a gale, so that, from clewing
the main royal to furling the top-gallant sails of the mizzen and
foremasts was but the action of a moment, as was the next work of
taking in the main top-gallant sail. And thus, ere long, Bella had her
first experience of what a storm at sea was like, and, as she heard
the live stock grunting and squealing forward; the ship's furniture
more or less thundering about wherever it could get loose; the
piano--on which, only the night before, she had played the
accompaniment to her uncle's deep bass voice as he trolled out 'In
Cellar Cool'--thumping heavily against the bulkhead to which it was
usually lashed, and the cries of the sailors as they uttered words
which might not, perhaps, be properly denominated as 'cries, alone,
she began to wonder how her darling Gilbert could ever have chosen
such a calling. While, too, the streaming planks when, at last, she
ventured on deck, the dull sepia clouds and the mournful look of the
Emperor herself, under reefed topsails, foresail, fore topmast
staysail, main trysail and spanker, as she rolled and yawed about in
the troughs and hollows of the sea, and took the water first over one
bow and then over another--and then, for a change, over her stem--only
increased that wonder.
Yet, lo! the next morning--for the sea is a great quick-change artist,
volatile and variable as a flirt, though too often as tragic as Medea
herself--when Bella looked out of her scuttle, against which the green
water now slapped boisterously but not viciously--all was changed. A
bright sun shone down from the blue heavens, the ship had still got a
roll on her, though not an unpleasant one--and the girl felt hungry.
Which was as good a sign that the storm was over as could well be
wished for.
'It has been a rough night,' Stephen Charke said, as he rose from his
breakfast on her entrance to the saloon, helped her to her chair, and
bade the steward bring coffee and hot rolls and bacon--all of which
were already perfuming the air. 'Your uncle is now on deck. We have
been there all night.'
'I thought,' said Bella, pouring out her coffee and smiling
pleasantly, since now all fear had departed from her mind that Charke
would misconstrue any friendly marks of intimacy she might be disposed
to graciously bestow on him, 'that I was at the end of my journey.
Indeed, that we all were; that it was brought to a sudden end;
accomplished. That----'
'That,' said Stephen, smiling too, sadly enough, yet enhancing
wonderfully his dark, handsome looks by doing so, 'that perhaps Mr.
Bampfyld might miss his bride!'
For a moment Bella's hazel eyes flashed at him, and he thought how
wondrously beautiful they looked as they did so--then a serious
expression came on her face. While, after pausing a moment, as though
scarcely knowing what answer to make or whether she should make one at
all, she said: 'Yes. That he might miss his bride. My death, and that
alone, could cause him to do so.' And as she spoke she looked Stephen
straight in the face, while feeling again--to her regret--that old
sentiment of doubt of him which she had come to believe she had
conquered and subdued.
'His death would cause the same result,' he answered, speaking slowly,
hesitatingly, for in truth he felt as if he were treading on dangerous
ground. And in a moment he found such was the case.
'Mr. Charke,' the girl said, very quietly now, 'I should be so much
obliged to you if, during the remainder of our journey together, you
will neither discuss my affairs nor those of my future husband, nor
him. It will make the voyage pleasanter to me if you will do that.'
As she spoke, the bell struck two, and, since the watches had been
disorganised by the storm of the night, that sound meant that Captain
Pooley would now come below for his breakfast, and his place above be
taken by the mate. Therefore, he turned towards the stairs, muttering:
'I beg your pardon, I am sure. Pray forgive me. I will not offend
again.' Then he disappeared on to the deck.
Yet an hour later he stood by her side beneath the awning, and now he
was directing her attention to something that, a mile off, was the
object of attention from every one on board. The captain and his wife
were both regarding it fixedly; so, too, were the men forward; the
only persons not present being, of course, the watch below and the
second mate, Mr. Fagg, who had now turned in.
'What do you make it out to be?' asked Pooley of Stephen, as they
still gazed at it. 'It is not a baby nor a child; yet it is scarcely
bigger than the first. Can it be a dog?'
'No,' said Charke authoritatively, as though his younger eyesight was
not to be disputed; 'it is either a young tiger or a panther cub
afloat on a water-cask. There has been a wreck during the night, I
expect, and it has got adrift. Perhaps,' he said, 'if we cruise around
a bit we may find some human life to save.'
'How should it be aboard any ship?' asked the captain. 'Who takes
tigers or panthers for passengers?'
'Plenty of people,' Charke answered quietly. 'They are brought home to
sell to the menageries and zoos. A cub like that is worth twenty
pounds--worth looking after. Guffies bring them home sometimes,
sailors often. Meanwhile,' he added, 'according to the set of the
waves, that thing will be alongside us in a quarter of an hour. I'll
bet a day's pay it strikes the ship betwixt the main and mizzen
channels.'
'Oh,' exclaimed Mrs. Pooley and Bella together, 'do let us save it and
get it on board! It will,' said the latter, 'be such a lovely
plaything--and such a curiosity! Fancy a girl from West Kensington who
has never had a plaything or pet more stupendous than a canary, a cat,
or a fox-terrier, having a tiger. Why,' she exclaimed, with a laugh
which gave to her short upper lip an appearance of tantalising beauty,
'Una will be outdone by me--a girl of the nineteenth century!'
Tantalising or not as that smile might be, it led to the salvation of
the cub; for, with a swift look at the captain which was meant to ask
for his assent, Charke called to one of the sailors to get over into
the channels and down on to the fourth futtock, he telling him with
wonderful accuracy the exact spot where the water-cask would strike
the stationary ship. Five minutes later, that which he had calculated
with such precision came to pass, the cask touched the vessel's side
almost immediately beneath the man's feet, and, in another moment, the
cub had been caught by its loose skin in the exact middle of its back
and hauled up, squealing, spitting and scratching, on to the deck.
'The little beast!' exclaimed the mate, as he sucked the back of his
hand where the creature had clawed him; 'the little beast! this is a
pretty reward for our saving it from drowning!' and he administered a
sound kick to the thing as it lay on the deck. So sound and rousing a
one, indeed, that it gave a grunt of pain, and, with its claws--about
as big, or bigger, than those of a good-sized cat--endeavoured to
fasten on to his legs. While, from its yellow, scintillating eyes, it
emitted a glance of such malignant ferocity as, had it been more fully
grown, might have alarmed a braver man than he.
'Oh, how cruel to kick that poor little half-drowned thing!' Bella
exclaimed reproachfully; 'it never meant to hurt you, only it was
frightened. Poor little thing!' she said again, and, even as she
spoke, she knelt down on the deck and stroked the wet, striped ball
that lay there. And it seemed as if her gentleness had some power to
soothe whatever ferocious instincts--still dormant and undeveloped at
present--were smouldering within it. For, instead of now using its
paws as weapons with which to strike out and attack anything near it,
it played with her as a kitten plays with a ball, tapping at her hand
and trying to catch it, and pushing and kicking against her with its
hind legs.
'You see,' she said, looking up at Charke with a glance in which she
could not disguise her dislike of his violence, 'you see, at present,
at least, it does not try to harm those who treat it well.'
'Yes,' he said, 'I see.' Then he added, half-bitterly, half-morosely:
'No one doubts your powers of fascination, Miss Waldron.'