ON THE POOP DECK.
No one on board the _Pandora_ was a greater favourite than Alice
Leyton. She was pretty and lively and clever, and she was reported
to be rich. On first starting, she had confided the secret of her
engagement to Vernon Blythe to several of the lady passengers, and,
as is usual in such cases, the news had leaked out, until it was the
property of the whole vessel. When she found that it was so, Alice
became shy of its being alluded to, and on more than one occasion
had denied it point blank, so that people did not really know what
to believe about it. And the girl had not been in such good spirits
lately. She laughed and talked enough when on deck or in the saloon,
and she ‘chaffed’ Jack Blythe so unmercifully whenever they met, that
he had become rather weary of her presence. But when she found herself
alone or unobserved, Alice’s face told a very different tale. Even
the baby, little Winnie, who shared her cabin, had more than once
been wakened from sleep by her sister’s sobbing, and wondered in her
childish way if ‘Ally’s pain was very bad,’ to make her ‘cry so hard?’
Indeed Alice Leyton’s conduct at this period resembled nothing so
much as an April day, with its alternate sun and showers. Her tears
might flow fast at night, but she would appear on deck next morning,
radiant with smiles, and her mother was the only person who noticed
that she looked a little care-worn, and that the lines under her blue
eyes were a shade darker than was natural. Mrs Leyton noticed another
thing--that her daughter no longer made the strenuous efforts she used
to do to secure a _tête-à-tête_ with her lover, Jack Blythe, but seemed
quite contented with the somewhat formal greetings they were obliged
to exchange in public, whilst she spent hour after hour in the company
of Captain Lovell. But she did not mention the subject to Alice. She
preferred the girl should settle her love affairs in her own way. The
truth is, Mrs Leyton had never felt quite easy as to what her husband
would say when she told him she had allowed their eldest daughter to
consider herself engaged to be married before consulting him. She was a
great invalid herself. She had come to England before Winnie’s birth to
secure better medical advice than she was able to get in New Zealand,
and it had not been considered safe for her to return home until now.
Alice had been, therefore, from the age of fourteen to eighteen, under
her mother’s exclusive care, and Mrs Leyton often wished she had not
allowed her to drift into this quasi-engagement with Vernon Blythe.
Her husband was a wealthy man, the owner of a large sheep-run on the
Hurannie, and was likely to expect his daughters to contract marriages
in accordance with the settlements he was able to make upon them. Mrs
Leyton felt sure that of the two suitors for Alice’s hand, her husband
would prefer Captain Lovell, who had retired from the service, and
was going out to settle in New Zealand, and so she determined to let
matters take their course. She liked and admired Vernon Blythe, but
he had no money beyond his pay, and nothing but his good looks and
gentlemanly manners to recommend him for a husband. Alice, on the
other hand, was in a very unhappy frame of mind. She wished her mother
would broach the subject, and ask for her confidence, or that Jack
would grow jealous of her flirtation with Lovell, and so bring about
an explanation, but neither of them made any sign. She felt guiltily
happy in the presence of the fascinating captain, and basely false and
fickle with regard to Jack; and if he held her to her engagement, she
felt that she must marry him, and so she was miserable all round. For
she knew now that she had never really loved Vernon Blythe. It was a
folly--an infatuation. He was so handsome, so graceful,--so courteous
in his manners towards her, and all the sex. But he had never looked
at her as Captain Lovell looked. She had never heard his voice tremble
while he addressed her, nor lowered to such a whisper that no one but
herself could understand what he said. Jack was the first man who had
ever made her heart beat a little quicker. He had always been lively
and _debonnair_ with her, and paid her compliments and brought her such
trifles as his slender purse could afford, and she had mistaken her
girlish pleasure over a sentimental friendship as an indication of the
master passion.
But poor Alice knew the difference now, and the knowledge made her
miserable, as it does most of us.
The _Pandora_, with the aid of the trades, was still forging ahead, but
day by day as she approached the Antarctic latitudes, it was growing
colder, and the Southern Cross was plainly visible at night. Yet the
hours passed but slowly, and had it not been for the anticipated
private theatricals, the passengers would have had but little to talk
about.
They were all assembled one morning on the poop. Alice and Captain
Lovell were standing close together, talking to Miss Vere about their
proposed amusement, and the conversation naturally led on to the
subject of her profession.
‘By Jove! deucedly jolly, Miss Vere, you know, to be on the stage;
isn’t it now, eh?’ lisped Harold Greenwood, who was once more in the
full glory of pink ties and white waistcoats, and had his glass well
screwed into his eye.
‘Have you tried it, Mr Greenwood?’
‘Well, not exactly, you know. But I might have, if I had chosen. I
was offered a large salary once--a _tremendous_ salary, I was told it
was--to appear as “Romeo.” The manager said I was just the face and
figure for “Romeo,” you know. “Oh that I wath a glove upon that cheek,”
and all that sort of thing, eh? I’d like doosidly to play “Romeo” to
your “Juliet,” Miss Vere, do you know? You _have_ played “Juliet,”
haven’t you, eh?’
‘Sometimes,’ replied the actress quietly.
‘Oh, I am _sure_ you have. You’d be an ideal Juliet, you know. I fancy
I can hear you saying to me, “Oh, Womeo, Womeo! wherefore art thou,
Womeo?”’ exclaimed Mr Greenwood, lisping rather worse than usual, in
his excitement. But he was quite offended when every one joined in a
loud laugh.
‘Oh, you must excuse us, really, Mr Greenwood!’ exclaimed Miss Vere,
wiping her eyes, ‘but you _are_ so funny. I should like to play
“Juliet” with you excessively. I assure you I should.’
‘_Do_, then,’ cried Harold Greenwood, taking it all in earnest; ‘let us
have “Romeo and Juliet” instead of this stupid comedy, and I shall have
the bliss (if for only one night) of pwetending you are mine, don’t you
know?’
‘I am afraid it would take too much of our time,’ replied Miss Vere,
with mock seriousness. ‘You do not know the many years of hard study
that I was obliged to go through, before I dared attempt the part of
Juliet.’
‘But I thought you had only been for a few years on the stage,’
remarked Captain Lovell.
‘Oh, no! indeed you are mistaken. For the last five years I have
been on the London boards, but I struggled for thirteen years in the
provinces before I could command an appearance in town.’
‘Do you mean to say you have been eighteen years on the stage, Miss
Vere?’ said Alice incredulously. ‘You must have appeared when you were
very young.’
‘I was ten years old when I made my _débût_. My father was an actor
at the Grecian Theatre, and as soon as I was old enough to speak my
lines correctly, he procured me my first engagement in the pantomime of
“Goody Two Shoes.”’
‘By Jove! I should like to play in a pantomime, Miss Vere, don’t you
know?’ drawled Harold Greenwood; ‘it must be very jolly to make-believe
to be a cat, or a dog, eh?’
‘Or a monkey, Mr Greenwood. No, I don’t think you would care about it.
You would soon want to cancel your engagement. It is all noise and
nonsense and make-up.’
‘Mr Greenwood is so clever, I don’t think he would have much trouble
to make-up--as a monkey,’ remarked Captain Lovell dryly.
Miss Vere frowned, and bit her lip.
‘A pantomime is all very nice from the front,’ she continued; ‘but when
you are obliged to listen to the same music night after night, to hear
the same lines spoken, the same “gags” used, you soon get sick and
tired of it all. However, I owe so much to my burlesque training, that
I never regret I went through it.’
‘But how could it do _you_ any good?’ demanded Alice Leyton.
‘It taught me to use my arms and legs, my dear, and cured me of
many bad habits, such as not being able to stand still, or to speak
distinctly. There are very few of our best-known artists who have not
played in pantomime or burlesque, and some of our leading ladies have
commenced their career in the ballet.’
‘But there are many actresses who play leading parts all at once, don’t
you know,’ said Harold Greenwood. ‘I know a young lady who acted
“Juliet” on her first appearance, at a _matinée_. What do you say to
that, Miss Vere, eh?’
‘I say she may have _attempted_ the part, but I am quite sure she never
_acted_ it as it should be done. “Juliet” is at once the most beautiful
and most difficult of Shakespeare’s creations, and in the hands of a
novice it becomes a burlesque.’
‘But she had heaps of bouquets, you know,’ argued Mr Greenwood: ‘the
stage was quite covered with them.’
‘Flowers do not denote a success now-a-days,’ replied Miss Vere, ‘and
to an amateur they become a very empty compliment. If your lady friend
wished to gratify her vanity, and prove how well she looked in antique
dresses, she might have found a less ridiculous and expensive way of
doing it. You may think I am a little hard, perhaps,’ she added, ‘but I
confess I _am_ severe on those amateurs, who have done so much towards
lowering the _prestige_ of one of the most noble professions in the
world.’
‘Oh, Miss Vere, you make us feel so small!’ cried Alice. ‘I shall never
dare attempt the part of “Julia,” after what you have said.’
‘My dear girl, what nonsense! My remarks were never meant to apply to
our projected amusement. You will certainly take “Julia,” and make a
very charming “Julia” into the bargain; and I am sure Captain Lovell
will make a “Faulkner” to match.
The captain bowed.
‘If I could only have been the lover of “Lydia Languish,”’ he said.
‘Go along, you humbug!’ cried the actress merrily; ‘you know that
“Faulkner” will become twice as natural an impersonation in your
hands. Indeed, I think you will have to moderate your dramatic ardour
a little, or we shall have a certain young gentleman in uniform
interrupting the rehearsals--eh, Miss Leyton?’
‘I don’t know what you’re alluding to,’ said Alice, with a vivid blush.
‘It must be something to do with the temperature of these latitudes,’
observed Miss Vere meaningly, ‘but I observe that the further south we
go, the harder Miss Leyton finds it to understand any of my hints.’
‘Now you are growing abusive, so I shall run away,’ replied Alice
merrily, as she turned to the after-part of the vessel.
Captain Lovell raised his hat to Miss Vere, and followed her.
‘Oh! are _you_ here?’ she said, with well-affected surprise, as having
ensconced herself by the wheel-house, she found the captain seated by
her side.
‘Yes! Am I intruding?’ demanded Lovell.
‘Oh, no! of course not; besides, the wheel-house does not belong to
me. Only I wish--’ said the girl, looking down--‘I _do_ wish people
wouldn’t be disagreeable, and talk so.’
‘I wouldn’t mind their talking, if it wasn’t true,’ remarked Lovell;
‘but I cannot help understanding Miss Vere’s allusions, and I suppose
they mean that you’re engaged to be married to Mr Blythe. Is that the
case, Miss Leyton?’
‘Well, not exactly.’
‘Is it only her nonsense?’
‘Not exactly,’ she repeated, growing more confused.
‘Do tell me the truth, then! You don’t know how much it means to me.’
‘We--that is, Mr Blythe and I--have talked of such a thing, but mother
doesn’t think that father will ever give his consent to it.’
‘And do you wish him to do so, Miss Leyton? Does your happiness depend
on it?’
‘I am not quite sure.’
‘But if you cared for Blythe, you _would_ be quite sure. You could have
no doubt upon the subject.’
‘He is fond of me,’ said Alice.
‘There is nothing wonderful in that. Plenty of people must be fond of
you. The question is, _Are you fond of him?_’
‘I don’t think you should ask me such a question, Captain Lovell.’
‘Forgive me if I have said too much. I would not offend you for the
world. But--but--I am very unhappy about it!’
‘So am I,’ whispered Alice.
‘If that is the case,’ exclaimed the captain, seizing her hand, ‘come
to some understanding about it at once! Speak to Mrs Leyton and Mr
Blythe on the subject, and let me know the worst. For this suspense is
intolerable, Alice: it is killing me by inches.’
‘Hush!’ said Alice quickly, withdrawing her hand; ‘be quiet, for
goodness’ sake, Captain Lovell. Here is Jack.’
And indeed at that very moment Vernon Blythe appeared round the
wheel-house, whistling as he went. He smiled pleasantly as he came
in sight of Alice, and took no notice whatever of her crimson face
and flurried manner. He nodded to Captain Lovell, who was confusedly
striking a fusee on the heel of his boot, in order to light a cigar,
and remarking, ‘Lucky fellow, to be able to smoke when you choose. I
wish my time had come,’ turned away as light-heartedly as if it had
been some other man’s betrothed whom he had detected in a flirtation
behind the wheel-house.
‘Did he see us, do you think?’ asked Alice fearfully of her companion,
as Jack disappeared.
‘Well, I really think he must have _seen_ us,’ replied the captain
deliberately, ‘for we are both full size, you know! But he appeared
very pleasant about it.’
‘Oh, dear!’ exclaimed Alice, ‘I hope he did _not_ see us.’
‘You are afraid of him, then?’ remarked Lovell.
‘No, not afraid, only--he would think so badly of me.’
‘And you wish him to think well of you.’
‘Oh, I don’t know _what_ I wish,’ cried the girl, in a voice that was
very suspicious of tears.
The passengers had retreated below. There was no one but themselves on
deck, except, indeed, Mr Coffin, whose back was turned to them, and
the man at the wheel, who was shut up in his box, and could only look
straight before him.
‘Shall I tell you what _I_ wish,’ whispered Captain Lovell, as his arm
stole round her waist; ‘_I_ have no doubt upon the matter, Alice.’
‘No! no! I cannot hear--I do not want to hear!’ exclaimed the girl
nervously, as she jumped up from her seat and ran down to the saloon,
leaving the captain to finish the flirtation by himself.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]