On the High Seas
There was quite a merry gathering at Cheverley Chase that Christmas. All
the Ingleton children were at home, and with Cousin Clare and Mr.
Stacey, they made a jolly party of nine, a satisfactory number, large
enough to act charades, play round games, and even to dance in the
evenings if they felt inclined. Without exception everybody voted Mr.
Stacey "an absolute sport." He seemed to know a little about everything,
and could help Bevis to arrange his stamp collection, or Clifford his
moths and butterflies; he could name Roland's fossils, give Dulcie tips
for the development of her photos, and teach Lilias to use the
typewriter. He was so cheery and good-tempered over it, too, and so
amusing, and full of fun and jokes, that the young Ingletons buzzed
round him like flies round a honey-pot. There are some people in the
world whose mental atmosphere appears to act like genial sunshine.
Because their uplifting personality demands the best in others' natures,
the best is offered to them. Mr. Stacey's lovable, joyous, enthusiastic
temperament made a wonderful difference at Cheverley Chase. The constant
squabbles and rivalries that had been wont to crop up seemed to melt
away in his presence. Never had there been such harmonious holidays, or
such pleasant ones. It was his idea to take advantage of a brief frost
and flood the lawn, so that the family could enjoy skating there, though
the ponds in the neighborhood were still unsafe. It was Carmel's first
experience of ice, and she struggled along, held up by her cousins,
feeling very helpless at first, but gradually learning to make her
strokes, and enjoying herself immensely. Then there was scouting in the
woods, and there were various expeditions to hunt for fossils in road
heaps and quarries, or to explore hitherto unvisited parts of the
district. There was no doubt that Mr. Stacey had a born knack with young
folks, and as a leader of Christmas fun he was quite unrivaled.
Among the changes for the better at Cheverley Chase there was perhaps
none so great as the marked difference in Everard. Nobody could fail to
notice it. Mr. Bowden considered that the six months spent as a
chauffeur had "knocked the nonsense out of the lad, and done him a world
of good." Cousin Clare said he had grown up, and the younger boys, while
not exactly analyzing the altered attitude, admitted that their eldest
brother was "a good sort" these holidays.
"Everard always so loved to be 'top dog' before," Dulcie confided to
Lilias. "I used to hate the way he bossed us all and arranged
everything. He's far nicer now he doesn't pose as 'the young squire.'
Even when he used to tell us what he'd do for us when he owned the
estate, it was in such a grand patronizing manner that it made me feel
all bristles. I didn't want to be helped like that!"
"He is indeed very different!" agreed Lilias thoughtfully.
The only person who did not notice any change in Everard was Carmel, but
she had never known him in the old days, so fixed him at the standard at
which she had found him. The two were excellent friends. Under her
cousin's teaching, Carmel learnt much of English country life; she had
the makings of a plucky little horsewoman, and could soon take a fence
and ride to hounds. She was very much interested in the gamekeeper's
reports, in various experiments in forestry that were being tried, and
in motor plows and other up-to-date agricultural implements that she saw
in use on the farms.
"It's all different from Sicily," she said one day.
"Yes. You see I'm training you to play your part as an English
landowner," replied Everard. "You ought to know something about your
estate."
Carmel shook her head emphatically.
"Don't call it _my_ estate, please! I've told you again and again that I
don't mean to take it from you. How could a girl like I am manage it
properly? You know all about it, and I don't. People can't be made to
take things they don't want. As soon as I'm twenty-one, I shall hand it
straight over to you. I'd like to see you master of the Chase!"
It was Everard's turn to shake his head.
"That can never be, Carmel! Please let us consider that matter perfectly
settled, and don't let us open the question again. It's an utter
impossibility for me ever to be master of the Chase. That's final! I may
have my faults, but I'm not a sneak or a fortune-hunter."
"You're not cross with me, Everard?" Carmel was looking at him
anxiously.
"No, dear, but you're such a child! You can't understand things properly
yet. You will when you're older."
"Then what are you going to do, Everard, after you leave college?"
"Study for the Bar, I hope. It's the kind of career that would suit me,
I think."
Carmel's dark eyes shone.
"Then I shall come to court, and hear you plead a case! And when you get
into Parliament--oh yes! you _are_ going to get into Parliament, I
_know_ you are!--I shall sit in the Ladies' Gallery and listen to your
first speech. If you won't be Squire of Cheverley, you must become
famous in some other way! In Sicily we think a tremendous amount about
being the head of the family. You'll be the head of the Ingletons, and
you've got to make a name for the sake of the others."
"I know I ought to take my father's place to the younger ones," answered
Everard gravely. "I'll do what I can in that line, though I'm not much
to boast of myself, I'm afraid. I'm not the good sort you think me,
Carmel. But there, you little witch, you've cast your glamour over me,
somehow! I suppose I've got to try to be all you want me. Princess
Carmel gives her orders here, it seems!"
"Yes, and in things like this she expects to be obeyed!" laughed Carmel.
"I told you once before that you hadn't got the same shape of forehead
as the Emperor Augustus for nothing!"
It was after the girls had returned to school, during some bitter
weather at the end of January, that Lilias caught a severe cold, and was
kept in bed. Dr. Martin, sent for from Glazebrook, took a serious view
of the case, and asked to consult with Dr. Hill of Balderton, the
family physician at Cheverley Chase. They sounded the patient's chest,
examined the temperature charts kept by Miss Walters, and decided that
the climate of Chilcombe was too damp for her at present, and that she
would benefit by spending the trying spring months in a warmer and drier
atmosphere. The result of this ultimatum was a large amount of writing
and telegraphing between England and Sicily, several confabulations
among Mr. Bowden, Cousin Clare, Mr. Stacey, and Miss Walters, and then
the remarkable and delightful announcement that the invalid, escorted by
a detachment of her family, was to be taken to Casa Bianca at Montalesso
on a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Greville.
It was, of course, Carmel who had engineered the whole business.
"It's nearly a year since I left home," she explained, "so it's time
they let me go and see them. I couldn't take Lilias without Dulcie, it
wouldn't be kind, and even Miss Walters saw that, though she held out at
first. Then Everard has been working very hard, and needs a change, but,
if Mr. Stacey goes with us, they can use Daddy's gun-room for a study,
and read for three or four hours every morning. And Cousin Clare must
come too, to take care of us all; we couldn't leave her behind. Mother
loved her when she came over to fetch me last year. I don't believe
she'd have let anybody else take me away. Oh, how I want to show Sicily
to you all! Won't we have absolutely the time of our lives? To think of
going home and taking you with me!"
It was wonderful how Princess Carmel seemed to manage to get her own
way. Mr. Bowden and Miss Walters, who were the natural obstacles to the
plan, yielded quite amicably after only a short opposition. Cousin Clare
had encouraged the scheme from the first, and Mr. Stacey and Everard
were all enthusiasm.
"You'll need us men to look after the luggage," declared Everard,
oblivious of the fact that Cousin Clare had successfully piloted Carmel
and her boxes across the continent without any masculine assistance, and
was quite capable of traveling round the world on her own account.
As Mr. Greville was one of the directors of a line of Mediterranean
steamers running from Liverpool to Alexandria, it was decided that the
party should book passages in the _Clytie_, and go by sea as far as
Malta, crossing from there in a local vessel to Sicily. The doctors
thought that a sea voyage would be better for Lilias than a long tiring
train journey across France and Italy, and as it was a novel experience,
the idea was attractive to most of the party. Fortunately they were
able to engage the accommodation they needed, and set out without
further loss of time.
I will not describe the journey to Liverpool, or the wearisome drive
through drab streets and along miles of docks till they reached the
_Clytie_. She was a steamer of about 6,000 tons, and, considering the
crowded condition of all sea traffic at the time, they might think
themselves very lucky to be able to secure cabins without waiting months
for the privilege. It was indeed only owing to Mr. Greville's influence
that they had been able to do so. With much curiosity they looked round
the floating castle which was to be their home for perhaps a fortnight.
All seemed new and strange to their wondering eyes--the dining-saloon,
with its long table and fixed, crimson plush-covered chairs, that
swivelled round like music-stools to allow their owners to sit down on
them; the small saloon, with mirrors, piano, and books, specially
reserved for the ladies instead of a drawing-room; the smoke-room for
the gentlemen, and the steward's pantry. The cramped sleeping
accommodation rather appalled the girls, though Cousin Clare, who was a
seasoned traveler, assured them it was far more roomy than that given on
many other vessels. As a matter of fact, the captain had turned out of
his own cabin for them, and was sleeping next to the chart-house on the
bridge, so that at any rate they had the best accommodation which the
_Clytie_ afforded. Four berths in a space about nine feet square
certainly does not allow much elbow room; the girls planned to go to bed
in relays, and wondered how they could possibly have managed in the
still smaller quarters at which Cousin Clare had hinted. Neatness and
order seemed an absolute essential. There was no place except their
berths on which to lay anything down, and their possessions had to
remain inside their cabin trunks. Each had brought a linen case with
pockets, and tacked it on to the wall beside her berth, to hold
hairbrush, comb, handkerchiefs, and a few other immediate necessities,
but when anything else was wanted, the trunks must be pulled from under
the bunks and their contents turned over.
They had hardly arranged their luggage in their cabin, when Everard came
in to tell them that the vessel was getting under way, and they all
rushed on deck to witness the start. Out from the dock they steamed into
the wide estuary of the Mersey, where ships of many nations might be
seen, and the pale February sunshine was gleaming upon the gray tidal
waters that lay in front, and on the roofs and chimneys of the great
city they were leaving behind.
"I can understand emigrants feeling it a wrench to say good-by to
England!" said Dulcie, leaning on the rail and fluttering her
handkerchief as a parting tribute to her country. "I'd be sorry if I
were never coming back any more! Home's home!"
"Yes, and Sicily is mine!" said Carmel with shining eyes. "I can't
forget that every day is taking me nearer to Mother! Only a fortnight
more, and we shall be at Casa Bianca! How I hope we shall have a smooth
voyage, and perhaps we shall get there even sooner. Now we have once
started off, I feel as if I can't wait! I didn't know till to-day that I
was so homesick!"
The first twenty-four hours on board the _Clytie_ passed very
successfully. The Ingletons dined, spent an evening in the saloon, made
the acquaintance of other passengers, and next morning amused themselves
with deck games. They began to congratulate the captain on the calmness
of the passage, but he laughed and told them not to count up their
blessings too soon.
"In February we may expect anything in the way of weather," he remarked.
And he was right. Directly they entered the Bay of Biscay they
encountered a storm. At first the girls thought it rather fun to feel
the vessel heaving its way through the water, to have to hold on to the
chairs as they crossed the saloon, and to be nearly jerked off the
stairs when they went on deck. But as evening came on, one by one they
began to feel the effects of _mal de mer_, and long before the
dinner-gong sounded had retired thankfully to their berths. The time
that followed was an absolute nightmare. The heavy seas dashed the
_Clytie_ about like a match-box. She pitched and tossed, and rolled, so
that one moment the girls, lying on their backs, would find their heels
higher than their heads, and the next instant the position would be
reversed. The violence of the rolling almost flung them out on to the
floor, and they were obliged to cling to the wooden edges of their
berths. All their possessions were rolling about the cabin, the linen
tidies had tumbled down, and hairbrushes, shoes, sponges, clothing, and
trunks spun round and round in confusion. The noise was terrific, the
wind blew a hurricane, and great waves broke over the deck with
tremendous force. To add to the danger, the cargo in the hold shifted,
and an enormous fly-wheel, which, with some other machinery was being
taken to Alexandria, broke loose from the chains that held it, and
dashed about smashing all with which it came in contact.
Even when morning dawned, the storm did not abate. The girls heard
afterwards that the men on the look-out were obliged to be lashed to the
rail with ropes, that the captain never left the bridge for twenty-four
hours, and that the hatches had been battened down to prevent any
passengers from venturing on deck. At the time they were far too ill to
care about any such details; Lilias and Dulcie would thankfully have
gone to the bottom, and though Carmel and Cousin Clare were more
cheerful, the physical discomfort troubled them decidedly more than the
danger. The stewardess, who, poor woman, was herself ill, managed to
struggle into their cabin, and holding on tightly to the berths, would
pass them drinks of tea in cups that could only be filled a quarter full
for fear of spilling.
All through that horrible day they lay still, for the violence of the
storm made it quite impossible to get up and dress. Towards evening,
Carmel, who began to feel better, turned to thoughts of food, and after
nibbling a biscuit, begged for something more. Now, when the _Clytie_
was pitching and tossing and generally misbehaving herself, it was
manifestly impossible to sit up and wield a knife and fork, for the
whole contents of the plate would be whirled away at the next sudden
lurch. The stewardess did her best, however, by bringing potatoes baked
in their skins, and pears, at both of which delicacies it was possible
to nibble while still lying flat, and holding with one hand to the side
of the berth. The humor of the situation appealed to Carmel so much that
she burst out laughing, and then Cousin Clare, and even Lilias and
Dulcie laughed, and were persuaded each to try a potato, too. They
snatched intervals of sleep during the night, and woke much refreshed.
Morning found the _Clytie_ off the coast of Portugal, and in
comparatively calm waters. Feeling very shaky, the Ingletons managed to
dress, and tottered on deck. Everard and Mr. Stacey, both looking pale,
though they assured every one that they were all right, found
comfortable chairs for the ladies, and tucked them up snugly with rugs.
After the long hours in the stuffy cabin it was delightful to sit in the
sunshine and watch the gray, racing water. Here and there in the
distance could occasionally be seen the funnels of far-away steamers,
and then there was much excitement and focussing of opera-glasses and
telescopes. They wondered if other vessels had been caught in the same
storm, and how they had fared, and Dulcie even hoped they might
encounter a wreck, and have the privilege of rescuing passengers from
open boats. She was quite disappointed when nothing so romantic
happened.
It was interesting to go down to lunch in the saloon, and find the
"fiddles" still on the table--long racks with holes in which the dishes
and plates exactly fit, so that they cannot be shaken about. There was
naturally much conversation among the passengers in relation to the
storm, and it was passed round the table as a joke that the captain
himself had been seasick, though he would not for a moment admit that he
was capable of such a landlubber's weakness.
"If I had known what it was going to be like, I would never have come by
sea!" declared Lilias, whose symptoms had been more acute than those of
any one else in the party.
"That's what everybody says at first, young lady," returned Captain
Porter. "Wait till you get seasoned a little, then you'll find out the
charms of Father Neptune's kingdom. I don't mind betting that by the
time we get to Malta, you'll have fallen in love with the Mediterranean,
and won't want to leave the vessel and will be begging me to take you on
to Alexandria!"
"And leave the others to go to Sicily? No, thanks!" laughed Lilias.