DRIVEN TO BAY.
VOL. III.
DRIVEN TO BAY.
_A NOVEL._
BY
FLORENCE MARRYAT,
AUTHOR OF
‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘MY OWN CHILD,’
‘THE MASTER PASSION,’ ‘SPIDERS OF SOCIETY,’
ETC., ETC.
_IN THREE VOLUMES._
VOL. III.
LONDON:
F. V. WHITE & CO.,
31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C.
1887.
[_All Rights reserved._]
EDINBURGH
COLSTON AND COMPANY
PRINTERS
[Illustration]
_CONTENTS._
CHAP. PAGE
I. A PRIVATE FARCE, 1
II. GRACE AND GODFREY, 20
III. IRIS AND VERNON, 39
IV. THE HOUSE AMIDSHIPS, 56
V. FACE TO FACE, 72
VI. THE RENDEZVOUS, 88
VII. THE MURDER, 108
VIII. MISSING, 125
IX. MR FOWLER, 142
X. DRIFTING BACK, 157
XI. A CHANGE, 175
XII. EXPOSURE, 192
XIII. A LEE SHORE, 209
XIV. SHIPWRECKED, 224
XV. FARRELL’S REVENGE, 239
“SELECT” NOVELS.
_Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each._
AT ALL BOOKSELLERS AND BOOKSTALLS.
By FLORENCE MARRYAT.
THE HEIR-PRESUMPTIVE.
THE HEART OF JANE WARNER.
UNDER THE LILIES AND ROSES.
MY OWN CHILD.
HER WORLD AGAINST A LIE.
PEERESS AND PLAYER.
FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS.
A BROKEN BLOSSOM.
MY SISTER THE ACTRESS.
By ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs Pender Cudlip).
HER SUCCESS.
KATE VALLIANT.
JENIFER.
ALLERTON TOWERS.
FRIENDS AND LOVERS.
By LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD.
MATED WITH A CLOWN.
ONLY A VILLAGE MAIDEN.
MOLLIE DARLING.
SWEETHEART AND WIFE.
By MRS HOUSTOUN, Author of “Recommended to Mercy.”
BARBARA’S WARNING.
By MRS ALEXANDER FRASER.
THE MATCH OF THE SEASON.
A FATAL PASSION.
A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY.
By IZA DUFFUS HARDY.
ONLY A LOVE STORY.
NOT EASILY JEALOUS.
LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY.
By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.
POISONED ARROWS.
By MRS H. LOVETT CAMERON.
IN A GRASS COUNTRY.
A DEAD PAST.
A NORTH COUNTRY MAID.
By DORA RUSSELL.
OUT OF EDEN.
By LADY VIOLET GREVILLE.
KEITH’S WIFE.
By NELLIE FORTESCUE HARRISON, Author of “So Runs my Dream.”
FOR ONE MAN’S PLEASURE.
By EDMUND LEATHES.
THE ACTOR’S WIFE.
By HARRIETT JAY.
A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE.
COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
DRIVEN TO BAY.
[Illustration]
DRIVEN TO BAY.
CHAPTER I.
A PRIVATE FARCE.
Miss Vere was not only a clever woman, and a woman of the world, she
was an excessively warm-hearted and generous woman,--one who, with a
large mind, could take pleasure in little things, and especially if
they gave pleasure to others. All this was plainly typified by the
interest she took in the _Pandora’s_ theatricals, and the trouble she
put herself to concerning them. She gained nothing by the act. She had
reaped her own laurels on the public boards, and wanted no applause
from private individuals. She was busy, moreover, with study for the
New Zealand tour, and had no more time than was necessary for her own
work. Yet she laid it all aside to coach her fellow-passengers in
their parts; to design their dresses; to suggest the rough scenery,
and even to superintend some of the preparations. The sailors had
rigged up a temporary stage in the steerage, where they had been
giving some uncouth performances themselves; and when the ladies and
gentlemen proposed to act, Captain Robarts had given leave for it to
be draped with the ship’s flags to form a proscenium, whilst some of
the men were told off to daub back canvases to serve as scenery for
the different acts. It was difficult to place ‘The Rivals’ on such
a stage with any effect, but the difficulty seemed to enhance the
excitement attendant on the amusement; and what with the ladies’ energy
and Miss Vere’s suggestions, the dresses promised to be marvellous,
considering the drawbacks placed in their way. For a week previous to
the performance, the good-natured actress had always one or more of
the aspirants for histrionic honours closeted with her in her private
cabin, whilst she drilled them in tone and gesture until they were
perfect in their parts. And with no one had she taken more trouble than
with Harold Greenwood. The poor little man had been so palpably ‘sent
to Coventry’ by his fellow-passengers, since the fright he had given
them, that his forlorn condition had excited Miss Vere’s compassion,
and she had shown him all the more kindness in consequence. But she
little knew the damage she was doing. Ever since their first meeting,
Mr Greenwood had secretly worshipped the fascinating actress. She
was just the sort of woman to attract a man of his calibre. Love
invariably loves a contrast. She was big, and he was small. She was
strong and energetic, and he was weak and incapable. She was full of
mirth and humour, and he was romantically and sentimentally inclined.
His nature unconsciously bowed before her strength and ability, and
he mistook the feeling for something different; for magnetism, if it
be not love itself, is quite as powerful, and more binding than the
master passion. Had Mr Greenwood’s fancy stopped there, it would have
done no harm to anybody; but, unfortunately, he mistook Miss Vere’s
good-natured attempts to make him forget the _contretemps_ which every
one else seemed determined he should remember, for a direct interest in
his own puny little person, and plumed his feathers accordingly. His
conceit and self-satisfaction became so offensively apparent, after
the actress had invited him to her cabin, and coached him there, in
some unimportant part for which she had cast him, just as a salve for
his wounded vanity, that Jack Blythe, whom he chose as a _confidant_,
felt inclined to kick him into the sea. The subject alone would have
been a source of irritation to Blythe, without the mode in which Harold
Greenwood conveyed it to him. Poor Jack was not in a humour just then
to receive love confidences from a successful suitor. He was suffering
terribly from the disappointment he had experienced, and it took all
his time to cast the devils of jealousy and envy out of him, and bring
his mind forcibly to bear upon his duty. And the intense conceit of
Harold Greenwood would have been sufficient to stir the wrath of a man
less irritably disposed than Vernon Blythe.
‘Out of the way, there!’ he called sharply, on the morning of the
theatricals, as a coil of rope came whizzing along the deck about the
legs of Mr Greenwood, causing the little man to jump a couple of feet
in the air, to avoid being thrown down by it.
‘Dear me!’ he ejaculated, ‘you might have given me warning, Mr Blythe.
You are all so awfully sudden in your movements on board ship, don’t
you know. One never has a moment to one’s self. And it’s really most
important that I should not be disturbed this morning! I’m studying
my part for this evening, don’t you know? You haven’t forgotten the
theatricals, eh?’
‘We can’t think of theatricals, or any other rubbish, when there’s work
to be done,’ replied Jack, somewhat roughly. ‘If you want to study,
you’d better go below. There’ll be more rope coming along by-and-by.’
‘No, thank you. I’m quite what Miss Vere calls “word perfect,” don’t
you know? A grand woman, Miss Vere, isn’t she now? Dear creature! what
hours of happiness we have had together in her cabin, preparing for
these theatricals. You’d envy me, Mr Blythe, if I told you all that has
passed between us.’
‘Perhaps I might. But I don’t know what right you have, Mr Greenwood,
to speak of any lady in such ambiguous terms. The more you have
received from a woman, the less you should say.’
‘Ah! but this is no secret, don’t you know? Everybody will hear it
soon. It will all be settled this evening.’
Jack looked at the pigmy with unfeigned surprise.
‘What the d--l!’ he exclaimed. ‘You don’t mean to tell me there’s
anything serious in it?’
Mr Greenwood looked quite offended.
‘_Serious_, Mr Blythe. Why don’t you ask me at once if I’m a man of
honour, or not? Do you suppose I’d let any woman get talked about
just for my own amusement? I’ve been brought up different from that,
don’t you know? and whatever gentlemen may be accustomed to do in the
merchant service--’
‘Here! just stow that about the service, will you?’ interrupted Jack
quickly. ‘There are as good men in the merchant service as out of it,
and please to remember, when you speak of it, that I’m one of them.
And, at all events, we sha’n’t go to _you_ to teach us how to treat a
woman.’
‘Oh, dear! Mr Blythe, I meant no offence. I was only speaking at
random, don’t you know? But you seemed to think it strange I should
have any intentions with respect to Miss Vere, eh? Well, of course I
know I shall have trouble with my own family about it, because we’ve
never done anything of the sort before--married an actress, don’t you
know? But I’m of age,’ said Mr Greenwood, drawing himself up to his
full height, ‘and in these affairs I ask leave of no one.’
‘Except the lady, I presume,’ replied Jack dryly.
‘Except the lady, Mr Blythe, as you say. But the women--God bless
them--are not hard to please.’
‘I should think not,’ said the young officer, glancing at Harold
Greenwood critically; ‘and this lady, therefore, I am to presume, has
already succumbed?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Mr Greenwood, tittering; ‘she _has_
succumbed--decidedly succumbed. I had not made up my own mind
concerning it until this morning, but she made up hers a fortnight ago.
Oh, I’ve had plenty of encouragement, don’t you know? The only thing
that has kept me back a little, is the fact of her being an actress;
but I shall make it a proviso that she gives up the stage.’
‘I should think she would give up anything for _you_,’ remarked Jack
ironically.
‘Well, I generally find them pretty amenable,’ returned Harold
Greenwood, with the most ineffable conceit. ‘There is a little girl in
England now that is most doosidly gone on me, don’t you know? She would
have followed me to New Zealand if I hadn’t prevented her,--hid in the
hold or the steerage--’pon my soul she would, only to be near me, and
to see me, don’t you know? They’re very faithful creatures, women are,
when they _really_ love. Don’t you think so?’
‘I really cannot boast of your unlimited experience,’ replied Jack. ‘No
one has ever hidden in the hold, or the steerage, I am afraid, just to
catch a glimpse of me.’
‘Really. Well, I suppose it depends very much on a fella himself, don’t
you know? But the women always said I had a way with me.’
‘And when are you going to exercise your “way” on Miss Vere?’
‘This evening. Oh, yes, it’s quite settled between us that I shall
speak this evening. She’s expecting it, don’t you know? But we’ve been
so busy the last fortnight studying our parts, I thought it best not to
unsettle our minds by thinking of other things. But this evening it’ll
be all right. I suppose you’ll be coming down to the theatricals, Mr
Blythe, eh?’
‘Oh, yes, I hope to be there.’
‘Then, when they’re over, I shall have the pleasure of introducing you
to the future Mrs Greenwood. It’ll be all settled by then, don’t you
know? Oh, she’s a glorious creature. Such eyes--such a mouth--such
splendid hair, and such a beautiful figure! I do hope my people won’t
make a jolly row about her being an actress. But if they do, I’ve made
up my mind to go on the stage too, and play her lovers. I don’t think
I should like any other fella to play her lover. It would make me so
horribly jealous, and when I’m jealous, I’m as bad as Othello, don’t
you know?’
‘Dear me!’ said Jack, ‘you must be very dangerous. I shouldn’t like to
be the woman you caught tripping.’
‘By Jove! I’d kill her, don’t you know?’ replied Greenwood; ‘but
don’t let’s talk of anything so horrid. Emily--that’s Miss Vere, you
know--will never give me any cause for jealousy--I’m sure of that. She
loves me too well. If you’d seen her this morning when we went through
our scene together, you’d have been ready to die of envy.’
‘Well, I congratulate you,’ said Jack. ‘She’s a very handsome woman,
and a very clever one, and a mine of gold into the bargain. If you win
her, you’ll be a lucky fellow. But don’t count your chickens before
they’re hatched.’
Harold Greenwood was indignant at the suggestion.
‘Don’t count my chickens before they’re hatched!’ he repeated. ‘But
they _are_ hatched, Mr Blythe, don’t you know?’
‘All the better for you, my boy,’ laughed Jack, as he walked away.
That afternoon at dinner time Mr Coffin was on duty, and Blythe took
his place at the table. As he did so, he glanced with some curiosity at
the upper end, where Miss Vere, the Vansittarts, and the Leytons were
all clustered about the captain. Harold Greenwood was sitting opposite
the actress, devouring her with his eyes, and listening open-mouthed to
every word she said. As his glance met that of Vernon Blythe, he nodded
to him in a self-satisfied manner, and threw a significant look across
the table, as much as to say, ‘Now, you will see, don’t you know?’ and
Vernon, in consequence, kept his ears open for all that went on between
them. Miss Vere appeared to be in excellent spirits, and quite looking
forward to the evening’s amusement.
‘My little “Julia” here, is simply perfect,’ she said to Captain
Lovell, as she laid a kindly hand on Alice Leyton’s shoulder, ‘and
when you see her in her short-waisted frock, I expect you all to lose
your hearts.’
‘Oh, Miss Vere! how can you talk so?’ exclaimed Alice. ‘When I hear you
speak, I shall be ashamed to open my mouth.’
‘That’s nonsense, dear,’ replied the actress. ‘If you could play as
well as I do, who have been so many years on the stage, my time and
labour would have been completely wasted. But you are an excellent
little actress, for an amateur, and if you had had my training, you
would play quite as well.’
‘You say that to encourage me,’ said Alice.
‘And why shouldn’t I encourage you? I assure you I am very proud of my
“scratch” company, and feel sure we are going to have a most enjoyable
evening. Mr Greenwood will distinguish himself for one, I know.’
‘I shall do my best to please you, Miss Vere, in every way, before
the evening’s over, don’t you know?’ replied Harold Greenwood, with a
knowing glance, which almost amounted to a wink, at Vernon Blythe.
‘That’s right,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Captain Robarts, I hope _you_
mean to honour us by your attendance?’
‘Certainly, Miss Vere, unless the ship claims my attention elsewhere.
But you’ll have a good audience without me. Everybody is looking
forward to it with the greatest expectation. The steward told me there
was quite a disturbance amongst the steerage passengers when they heard
that they were all invited to attend.’
‘Poor dears!’ sighed Miss Vere softly. ‘I remember once when my husband
and I were--’
But here she was interrupted by Alice Leyton.
‘Miss Vere,’ she exclaimed, loud enough for all the table to hear, ‘do
you know what you said?’
‘_What_ did I say?’ asked the actress, smiling.
‘_Your husband!_ Are you really _married_?’
At that question, the curiosity of all the passengers was aroused, and
none more so than that of Vernon Blythe. The actress glanced up and
down the table at the expectant faces, in amused surprise.
‘_Married!_’ she echoed, laughing merrily. ‘I thought all the world
knew as much as that. Why, _of course_ I’m married. Do I look like an
old maid? What horrible suspicions have attached themselves to me! I’ve
been married for the last ten years. I have five children,’ she added,
in a faltering voice, ‘at home.’
‘_Five children!_’ repeated Alice. ‘Oh, Miss Vere, do tell me about
them. What are their names, and are they boys or girls?’
‘Not now, dear,’ said her friend, as she dashed her hand across her
eyes. ‘Come to my cabin to-morrow, and you shall see all their
photographs. But if I talk of them now--well, not to put too fine a
point upon it, I shall begin to cry, and spoil my looks for to-night.’
‘How can you make up your mind to leave them?’ said Alice stupidly.
‘I am obliged to make up my mind to it. I leave them for their sakes
as well as for my own. But my heart is very much divided, you know.
It is half in England, and half in New Zealand. My husband is my
business manager, and preceded me there by three months. I shall meet
him when we arrive at Canterbury, and that thought is quite enough to
counterbalance the pain of parting with my children.’
Poor Harold Greenwood had been fidgeting so dreadfully on his seat
during this conversation, that he attracted the actress’s attention.
‘You mustn’t be offended, Mr Greenwood,’ she continued, smiling with
her beautiful eyes still wet with unshed tears, ‘if I tell you that
why I took a fancy to you is because there is something in your
face, and the colour of your hair, that reminds me of my eldest boy.
Dear little fellow! he went to school for the first time when I left
England, and I thought we should both have broken our hearts. If Mr
Perkins were only with me--’
‘Is Mr Perkins your husband?’ inquired Alice.
Miss Vere burst out laughing.
‘Yes, my dear! It is really true; but for Heaven’s sake don’t pursue
the subject. _I am Mrs Perkins._ But I keep it a secret of blood
and death. Please never call me anything but Emily Vere, or I shall
not answer to the name. And now it must be time to go and see after
our dresses. Mr Greenwood! didn’t I promise to be your lady’s-maid
to-night? If you find any difficulty in arranging your costume, come to
my cabin, and I will try and imagine you are my little boy, and play
“nurse” to you--’
‘No, no, thank you!’ stammered Harold Greenwood, as he tried to make
his escape from table. ‘I shall be all right, don’t you know?’
But Jack Blythe was not sufficiently magnanimous to let the humiliated
wretch pass him, without standing a jest at his own expense.
‘I say, old fellow,’ he called out, as Greenwood tried to slink by his
chair, ‘don’t you forget your promise to me of this morning. You’ll
be sure to introduce me to the future Mrs Greenwood as soon as the
theatricals are over, won’t you? For the chickens are all hatched, you
know, and the business is as good as settled already.’
But the unhappy Mr Greenwood would not even attempt to say a word in
his own defence. Wrenching his coat-sleeve from the grasp of Vernon
Blythe, he rushed to his berth, and was seen no more till he appeared
upon the stage.
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