Captain Blake also remains in the wardroom, and endeavours to put the
unfortunate people at ease by getting them to talk calmly of their
misadventure.
At first he is somewhat unsuccessful, the girls, at least, are
seemingly so frightened and collapsed that they can hardly get beyond
a few disjointed sentences and much sobbing. But Captain Blake keeps
manfully at his task and feigns to take no notice of their whispered
hesitations.
"That's better," he says cheerfully, as he stirs the fire to a still
fiercer blaze. "Poor things, how cold you must be! How long did you
say you were adrift in that boat?" As a matter of fact they had not
said anything about it, but Captain Blake ignores this detail.
"Since about five o'clock this morning. Our ship was torpedoed just
a few minutes before the hour."
The dark girl has suddenly found her voice. And a beautiful voice it
is in which she makes this clear sharp statement; a rich, full
contralto, with just a sweet suspicion of an Irish brogue about it.
Stapleton turns his eyes wonderingly on her as she speaks. Is it
possible to fall in love with a voice? If so, then this is just the
sort of voice to make such an act excusable.
"Over twelve hours, and in this bitter weather!" exclaims the
Captain. "I wonder you are alive! And was no one saved but you
three? But--stupid of me--of course, you can tell us all about that
later." Then, turning to the man of the party, who persists in
remaining apart from the others--"Do pull over your chair, my dear
sir, you must be----"
"Thank ye, I'm all right," comes the rather ungracious answer. "Ye
need not mind me, if ye'll look after the two girls. It's perished
with the cold they are. For myself, I want nothing."
Stapleton bends his head towards Dale and says in an undertone,
"Seems a surly kind of chap, doesn't he?" But the doctor does not
reply: he looks from one to the other of the shipwrecked passengers
and shakes his head mysteriously.
At this moment there is an opportune interruption, as a small army of
waiters and stewards file into the room with all manner of
preparations for refreshing the inner man. One would think from the
number of dishes and decanters that there was a whole shipwrecked
crew waiting to be fed instead of only three people!
However, it is a very welcome sight and there is much bustling about
to seize the most tempting articles of food and drink and offer them
to the famished guests.
Dale, knowing well what will be the most useful as a preliminary,
seizes brandy and hot water, and insists upon his patients taking
some immediately. He himself holds the glass to the lips of the
younger girl, who is by far the most fainting of them all.
"Oh please, please," she stammers, turning her head away, and pushing
the glass aside, "I--I can't. Oh, I'm so frightened! This is a
terrible business!"
"Come, come, that's all right. Drink this and you will feel better.
There's no need to worry over anything now. It's all over, you know!"
"Oh, but it _isn't_! I'm--oh dear, oh dear!" More sobbing. Dale is
rather taken aback, but still keeps gently insisting till finally he
succeeds in making the girl swallow a little of the brandy. The
Captain, who cannot stand a woman's tears, murmurs something
apologetic and altogether unintelligible and makes a bolt from the
room.
Stapleton meanwhile has had better success with the other girl.
Confronted with the same tearful hesitation he adopts different
methods.
"Yes, yes, I know you don't like it, and all that sort of thing," he
says banteringly, "but just swallow it down like a good child and you
shall have a bun and an orange and go to the pantomime. Don't think
about it--think of something else; good speech that of Lloyd George
the other day, wasn't it? Been to any of the new revues lately?
There--that's done it! You'll feel quite yourself again presently.
Pardon my drastic methods, won't you?"
The girl is forced to smile through her tears. "Oh, thank you, thank
you, you are very good! How can you be so kind to us? Oh, if only
you----"
"Norah!----"
It is the man who has uttered this sharp cry which rings loud above
the buzz of talk and the noise of the busy waiters, and creates a
sudden silence in the room.
Stapleton and Dale turn quickly towards the man. The surgeon is so
startled that he drops the glass from his hand, and it shivers upon
the hard deck with a tinkling crash.
"Ah," says the man, "'tis my nerves are on the stretch!" Apparently
he is explaining and apologising for his startled exclamation. "And
small wonder! From seven o'clock this morning in an open boat--an'
then to see our ship go down before our very eyes! 'Twas a German
submarine, sir--a deliberate attack without warning! Would you
believe, now, that they would do such a dirty trick? A helpless
passenger ship, with women and little children on board of her! And
never a chance for anyone to get clear of the vessel before they
attacked her! Ah, 'twas a cruel deed--foul shame to them!"
"You're right, sir," remarks Dale, briefly, and turns away again,
content to leave the man to the fleet-paymaster and the
engineer-commander who are quite capable, he thinks, of looking after
him. And, moreover, the young surgeon does not take kindly to the
man. There was something a little uncalled for, as it seems, to him,
in that long-winded tirade following on that cry of "_Norah!_"
What was the meaning of his calling out in that fashion? After all,
there was no explanation of it in the rapid stream of words that
followed. And--yes, Dale was sure of it--there had certainly been a
note of _warning_ in the man's voice.
But why? Well, it was not worth wondering about and the surgeon's
mind quickly turns to other matters.
As for Stapleton, he is glad to learn in this unexpected way the name
of the beautiful dark lady in distress.
"Norah," he repeats quickly to himself--"Norah! And a very pretty
name, too. Yes, it suits her; Norah."
The last "Norah" comes from his lips a little louder than he had
intended in trying the sound of it to himself. The owner of the name
catches the sound of it and smiles a little, guessing what is in his
mind.
"Yes, that is my name," she says, "Norah Sheridan. I ought to have
told you before. And these are my cousins with whom I am travelling,
Netta and Patrick Sheridan."
"It was a dangerous business crossing the seas at such a time,"
observes Dale. "You haven't told us yet where you were coming from?"
"From America," hesitatingly answers the younger girl, noting that
the question is addressed to her.
"From what part?"
"From--where was it, Norah?"
"From Galveston in Texas. We were bound for Hull, taking the route
around the North of Scotland."
"And you were almost safe in port!" exclaims Stapleton. "That was
rough luck! I suppose you were just congratulating yourselves on
being pretty safe, after having escaped danger for--how many days had
you been at sea?"
"I don't remember," stammers Netta, and again appeals to her cousin:
"How many days was it, Norah?"
"Eight. Our escape was a most miraculous one. I don't believe there
were any other survivors. I saw boat after boat swamped as they
tried to get clear of the ship!"
A pretty cool young woman this, thinks Surgeon Dale, as he listens to
her crisp, concise statement. Certainly she puts things in a very
matter of fact way!
On Stapleton, however, the effect of the girl's words is very
different. He is roused to a white rage.
"Those swine, those murdering devils!" he cries, clenching his fists
and flashing fire from his keen blue eyes--"and to think they have
the insolence to call themselves sailors! Making war against
defenceless passenger ships!"
His anger quickly cools, as he continues reflectingly.
"Now, to torpedo a ship like this, a pukka man-of-war, that would
only be fair game. If _we_ should happen to get blown to blazes, we
shouldn't have any cause for----"
With a stifled scream Netta breaks in, "Oh don't--_don't_!
Horrible--horrible!"
"Shut up, you silly ass," Dale admonishes him. "Don't you see the
poor girl has had about as much as she can stand for one day? Just
let her stay quiet and rest a while."
"Of course! What a fool I was! I _am_ sorry--I ought to have had
more sense than to upset you like that. Please forgive me, and just
remember you are perfectly safe on board the old _Marathon_. Say
what you want--everything in the ship is entirely at your disposal,
and every man of us too!"
"Yes, I know you are," comes the steady reply in Norah's beautiful
contralto.
"Oh, Norah, how _can_ you?" In some unexplained manner the simple
words has had the result of upsetting her tremulous cousin once more,
for the poor girl breaks again into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.
"'Poor little girl!" Stapleton murmurs; and feeling that something
more than the rough touch of a man's sympathy is required to soothe
those jangled nerves, appeals to her cousin.
"Can't you say something to quiet her? Tell her it's all right now,
and there's not the least danger--and if there were, there are four
hundred good men on board who would gladly give up their lives to
save yours." And he adds in a louder tone:
"As for me, if I had a hundred lives they should all be yours, if you
wanted them!"
The words are not spoken so low but that Norah hears them. And there
is no mistaking the fact that they are meant in all seriousness. Has
the man fallen in love with her, then? Is this a case of that
proverbial gallantry of the typical naval officer--or is it something
deeper than that?
Be it what it may, the effect upon her is to say the least of it
unexpected. She is neither melted into softness at the impassioned
words, nor on the other hand does she seem offended. Only she sets
her lips firmly, and for a moment a look as of a fixed resolve, a
fierce determination, comes into her eyes. And she answers never a
word.