THE RENDEZVOUS.
He did not stir for some moments after she had disappeared. He was
fearful lest the sailors on deck should suspect there was some
connection between them if they quitted the place together. And his
reflections as he paced to and fro the berth, were anything but
pleasant ones.
‘How _dared_ she follow me?’ he soliloquised, with rage and anger
gnawing at his heart. ‘She has blighted my last chance, frustrated all
my plans, and now defies me to save myself! Farrell, of course, has
blurted out all that infernal business to her. I suppose that was the
revenge he threatened me with the other night; and she will use it as a
weapon against me. But I will put a stop to her tongue, curse her! She
shall not stand in my way to fortune.’
He thought he might venture to leave the spare galley by this time, and
making his way over the wet deck, he walked straight aft to the saloon,
and throwing himself on one of the lounges, called the steward to fetch
him a brandy-and-soda.
He had never felt so upset in his life as he did from this annoying
interview. It had half maddened him! What on earth could he do or say
to stop the chattering tongue of a jealous and spiteful woman? It would
be as easy, he thought, to dam the falls of Niagara! And it took more
than one brandy to quiet in any degree his shaken and agitated nerves.
Then he rose and walked, trembling in every limb, to his own cabin,
and, locking the door, threw himself down upon the bed and tried to
think what was best to be done. One thing only seemed clear to him.
If he allowed Iris and Farrell to have their own way, he stood a very
good chance of ending his days as a felon! She had said that Farrell
held the _proofs_ of his forgery! What proofs? Where had he procured
them? What did he retain them for, except to work his ruin? _If_ he
could only get rid of those proofs, he would be safe. But then there
was Iris--his bane and his curse--always ready to reappear and spoil
his chances with Grace Vansittart. She was too virtuous to consent to
go halves with him in obtaining their mutual freedom; but she would
not prove too virtuous, he would bet, to drag him from the quiet and
respectable life he intended to lead, back to poverty, and shame, and
public disgrace! What if he could get rid of them _both_ together! If
he could only induce Iris, on the pretence of following her wishes in
the matter, to bring him the proofs that Farrell held against him, by
night, and then--
‘But no,’ he thought, with a visible shudder, as his hands twitched
nervously, ‘I couldn’t--_I couldn’t_! I am in her devilish
clutches,--actually in her power, and there is no way out of it but
one. I must give up Grace, and all my future prospects, and return to
my old life of hopeless impecuniosity. Oh, it is _too_ hard! Why on
earth was I such a fool as to let her discover my intentions? I ought
to be hung, for such a piece of senseless imbecility.’
Here he lay for some time in silence, thinking deeply. After a while,
a cold, cruel smile crept over his hard features, as though his
perplexity were solved.
‘Of course, _the surgery_. Nothing can be easier; and I’ll have those
proofs, if nothing else. I’ll send Iris a model letter, asking her
to meet me to-night in the spare galley, to settle what is best to
be done in the matter; and if I can persuade her to bring the proofs
with her, I’ll take good care she doesn’t take them back again. I’ll
put one witness against me out of the way, at all events, until I have
determined what to do with the other.’
After this fashion Godfrey Harland talked to himself, whilst locked up
in his berth; and by the time the dinner-bell rang, he felt too nervous
and excited to trust himself to join the other passengers.
It was a bleak, cold evening. The sky was blue, and spangled with
bright stars, and every now and then the moon shot forth white darts of
light; but they were frequently obscured by heavy squalls which covered
the heavens, whilst they lasted, with a heavy drapery.
In the rare intervals, the white sails and masts of the _Pandora_ stood
out in bold relief against the sky, and the crested swells were lit up
with rays of silver. The ultra-marine blue above, with its thousands of
little lamps, contrasted strangely with the sage-green waters; and a
wicked-looking cloud that was rising astern served as a most becoming
background for the sea and air.
The deck was cast well in shadow when the figure of a man, who had
been standing about for some time in feverish suspense, emerged from
the shade of the companion-ladder, and stole towards the surgery door,
which was between the long saloon passage and the berth of the second
officer. Glancing around more than once, to make sure that no one was
at hand, he pushed back the lock with his clasp-knife, and with a
sudden wrench turning the handle, disappeared from sight, and closed
the door behind him.
The saloon passengers, as they finished their dinner, rose from table
and donned their overcoats and wraps, with a view to going on deck.
‘Now, that’s a bargain, doctor!’ laughed Alice Leyton; ‘six pairs of
gloves if the _Pandora_ gets in under three days?’
‘Yes, Miss Leyton; and from the very best glover in Canterbury.’
‘I take sixes, remember, and never wear less than eight buttons,’ said
Alice.
‘Don’t count your buttons before we reach the goal,’ replied the doctor
merrily. ‘I think (luckily for me) they are still looming a long way
in the distance; for if we do not get a strong breeze by to-morrow at
latest, Mr Coffin tells me we cannot possibly drop anchor till Sunday.
But if you will excuse me, I will run and get the paregoric lozenges I
promised Miss Vere.’
And Dr Lennard disappeared into the passage.
‘Very strange,’ he muttered to himself, as he turned the handle of the
surgery door. ‘I thought I locked it before dinner. Hullo! hullo! Who’s
that? What are you doing in here?’
‘It’s all right, doctor,’ replied Harland, confronting him with rather
a confused countenance; ‘don’t be alarmed. I was sitting smoking on the
weatherboard, and dropped the end of my cigar inside, so I came after
it, in case it might be dangerous.’
‘There’s nothing to catch alight here, though, of course, you should
be cautious,’ said the doctor, half suspiciously. ‘By the way, did you
find the door open?’
‘Well, _rather_,’ rejoined Harland. ‘You don’t suspect me of keeping
skeleton keys, do you?’
‘I don’t suspect anything, but I certainly thought that I had locked
the door when I put the key in my pocket. I must be more careful in
future, or some one will be after my case of medical port.’
‘By Jove! yes,’ acquiesced Harland. ‘If any of these thirsty dogs of
shellbacks were knocking about, they’d make short work of a dozen of
port--wouldn’t they? The brutes drink like fishes.’
‘They’re not the only people aboard that know how to drink,’ answered
the doctor dryly, with a meaning glance at his companion, who laughed
awkwardly, and turned away to the lee side of the vessel.
At the same moment, Iris was reading over a letter which she had
received from her husband, to Maggie and Farrell.
‘Don’t you go,’ pleaded the former; ‘don’t go nigh him, my pretty. He
only wants to try and talk you over; and you’re so soft-hearted, I’m
not sure but what you’ll give in to him.’
‘Surely you will not keep this appointment, Miss Douglas,’ urged
Farrell. ‘We have only a few more days to spend on board now, and
during that time, you should avoid him as much as possible. He only
wants, as Maggie says, to persuade you to alter your mind. Write and
tell him that it is made up, and you have nothing more to say to him on
the subject.’
‘You both seem to think me terribly weak,’ said Iris, almost irritably.
‘Do you suppose I can’t take care of myself? I told Mr Harland my
intentions plainly, and he quite understands there is no alternative.
All he wishes is to see me again, in order that we may arrange together
how best to carry out our plans. I think that is only reasonable. Did
you listen attentively to his letter? Let me read it to you again:--
‘MY DEAR IRIS,--I have been thinking deeply over what you said to
me this afternoon, and I see you are right, and I must have been
crazy to dream of doing anything else. Can you forgive me? If you
can, it will help me to do my duty for the future, and I promise
you to act on the square. You say that Farrell holds proofs against
me. Were I convinced of this, it would materially alter my plans
for our well-doing. Are they accessible? I should much like to see
them. Try and persuade him to let you have the custody of them for
half-an-hour. I pledge you my word of honour not even to touch them.
How could I do anything repugnant to your wishes, in so public a
place as the spare galley? If you will meet me there to-night at ten
o’clock, when the passengers are at supper, I will tell you what
arrangements I have made for you on landing. It is possible we may be
at Canterbury sooner than you anticipate, and it is best (in order to
save gossip) that we should not leave the ship together. Do not fail
to meet me to-night.--Yours,
G. H.’
‘Cant! Humbug!’ exclaimed Farrell. ‘There is some deep scheme hidden
under this pretended repentance. You will be a fool, Miss Douglas, if
you comply with his request.’
‘You are both against him,’ said Iris. ‘I know he has a hundred faults,
but he _may_ be sincere in wishing to amend his life. And _I_ am not
the one who should refuse to help him.’
And as she spoke, she twisted up the note, and held it in the flame of
the swinging lamp.
‘What are you doing?’ cried Farrell quickly, as he attempted to rescue
it.
‘Burning my letter. Have I not a right to burn it?’ returned Iris, in a
tone of annoyance.
‘Certainly; but I do not consider it a judicious act. It is evidence
against him. Chicanery is written in every line. What should he want to
see those proofs for, except to destroy them?’
‘You all suspect him. Because he has sinned _once_, he can do nothing
right in your eyes now,’ said Iris impetuously. ‘And I suppose, Mr
Farrell, if I asked you for those proofs, you would refuse to trust
them to me?’
‘I should, indeed; for _your_ sake more than my own. It is of little
consequence to me whether he suffers the penalty of the law or not; but
it is of the utmost importance that he should be kept in fear of it, to
protect your interests.’
‘Then I shall go and see him without them, and tell him that you have
no pity,’ replied Iris, as she rose and went to her own cabin.
‘Will she _really_ go?’ demanded Farrell of Maggie.
‘I’m much afraid she will, unless I stop her. Ah, Will, she’ll be a
deal too good to him. Them few soft words have melted her like fire
does snow. Sometimes I think I’ll tell her all, and let her see what
a double-dyed rascal he is; but then I couldn’t bear for her to look
coldly on _me_. Lord! how the wind howls. It’s an awful night, ain’t
it? A reg’lar storm. And what’s that? The mistress cryin’! Ah, I must
go to her, poor dear. This business has upset her altogether.’
‘Try all you can to persuade her not to see that man again, Maggie.’
‘I’ll do my best; but if she’s set on it, she will. But, there, let me
go to her. I’ve a notion in my head I’ll find a way out of it yet.’
She rushed to Iris, and found her (as she had anticipated) in
hysterics. The excitement had overtaxed her strength, and Harland’s
apparently repentant note had finished the work. She sobbed and cried
for a long time without control, and then was so exhausted she was
obliged to lie down in her berth.
‘Now! you’re better,’ said Maggie soothingly; ‘and if you’ll promise to
lie quiet till I come back, I’ll run and get something for you from the
doctor.’
‘Oh, no, Maggie! I must get up. It is time to go and meet Godfrey,’
replied Iris, trying to rise.
‘I am sure it isn’t. It has only just gone nine. You have a whole hour
yet. Rest a bit, my pretty, and let me get you some camphor, or you
won’t be able to speak to him.’
Iris closed her eyes in acquiescence, and Maggie ran off in search of
Dr Lennard.
‘Doctor,’ she said persuasively, ‘my lady, Miss Douglas, has had the
high-strikes, and I want to get her to sleep at once. Will you mix her
a sleeping-draught, in some camphor, that she can take straight off.’
After a few questions, the doctor compounded the soporific, and Maggie
took it back to the cabin and made Iris swallow it. In a few minutes
her sobs relaxed, her eyes closed, her hands folded themselves over her
heaving breast, and she was asleep. Maggie drew the blankets closely
over her, and sat by her side until she was fairly off.
‘_That’s_ right,’ she thought, chuckling to herself; ‘that was very
neatly done. She’ll sleep sound, poor dear, till it’s ten o’clock
to-morrow morning. And now, shall I tell Will what I am going to do? I
think not. He’ll want to interfere, and spoil everything. I can manage
matters much better by myself. I will go and meet Mr Harland, and find
out what he really means to do; and I can pretend I’ve got the papers,
until he’s told me all his mind, and then I can discover I’ve left ’em
below stairs after all. But I mustn’t let him guess as it’s me until
I know his plans for the mistress, or he won’t tell ’em. Let me see!
How can I disguise myself?’ looking round the cabin. ‘Ah! there’s my
pretty’s cloak, and the black worsted wrap; and I can put a veil over
my face, and say I was afraid of being recognised by the saloon people.
And now I must hoodwink Will. Lord, what a trouble all these men are!
You can’t do nothing with them without lying all round.’
A moment later she was in the general cabin.
‘She’s gone off nicely,’ she whispered to Farrell. ‘I got a draught for
her from the doctor, mixed up in camphor, and she took it like a lamb
and was asleep in five minutes. And I guess Mr Harland will have to
wait a long time in the spare galley before he bullies her to-night,
poor dear.’
‘Well, you _are_ a clever girl,’ said Will admiringly; ‘you’ll be the
smartest wife for miles round when you and I are married, Maggie.’
‘Well, mind you make me a husband to match, then,’ she answered,
laughing. ‘But I’ll go to bed myself now, Will, for I’m reg’lar tired.
I think the wind makes one sleepy.’
‘All right! I’m just off for a game at cards with Perry. Good-night, my
dear!’
Maggie whisked away, with the cloak and shawl thrown over her arm, and
at ten o’clock she issued from the steerage so completely enveloped
in them that no casual observer could have said if it were she or her
mistress. The night was pitchy dark. Nothing could be seen all round
the vessel but the boiling foam, flashing with sparkling diamonds
of spray, that rushed in seething suds from the vessel’s bows. To
watch the _Pandora_ at this moment from her topgallant forecastle
was a glorious sight. The bank of snowy lather that was dispersed
on either side to make way for her keel, tossed and rolled over in
impotent fury; the plunges of the ship’s cutwater, that often dipped
her harpoon-shaped martingale deep into the sea; the angry waves
that dashed against her figurehead, and the breakers that leaped
fitfully against her sides, as if they panted to drag her down to the
unfathomable deep, composed a scene of majesty and awe. The sailors
knew that they might expect a stiff gale. Mr Coffin had stowed all her
smaller sails, shortening her down to topsails, and clad in his long
weather coat awaited the coming storm.
The freshening wind hummed in the rigging, and made the loose ropes
beat against the backstays. With a long stretch the _Pandora_ careened
over on her side, and set off at a swinging pace on her course.
The sailors on watch, considering they had done enough work for that
evening, and knowing there would be plenty for them by-and-by, had
turned into the forecastle to put on their oilskins. Only the ‘wheel’
and the ‘look-out’ were on deck, and the darkness made even them
invisible, as Maggie Greet, disguised in Iris’s long mantle, entered
the open door on the leeward of the spare galley. Godfrey Harland was
already there, and moved a few steps towards her.
‘I felt sure you would see the wisdom of meeting me,’ he said; ‘we will
soon set this matter right now. Come from the open door and stand
nearer this way; there will be the less chance of what we say to each
other being overheard.’
[Illustration]
[Illustration]