EXPOSURE.
At four bells in the early watch at the break of the ensuing day,
Captain Robarts was to be seen walking in company with his chief
officer. The wind had continued to blow steadily during the night,
freshening a little at eight bells, and the _Pandora_ had, at that
time, but one hundred miles to traverse. Should the elements continue
to favour them, the skipper expected to be anchored in the Bay before
midnight. But the appearance of the sun, which just peeped from a
curtain of bright red clouds, bordered with dull orange, formed the
subject of a grave discussion between the two officers.
‘I don’t like the looks of it, sir,’ said Mr Coffin, who had summoned
his commander to join him in an inspection of the offending luminary;
‘and my opinion is, that we shall get it before night falls.’
‘We ought to be at anchor by the second dog watch,’ observed the
captain; ‘have you noticed the barometer?’
‘Yes; and it’s falling, sir,’ replied the mate gravely. ‘Look at the
lumpy sea, too. The wind is not shifting about. There is no reason why
those waves should toss about in that fashion.’
‘I don’t mind the water so much,’ said Captain Robarts; ‘but those
blood-red streaks about that washed-out sun look dirty. What’s she
making?’
‘Eight and a-quarter when I hove the log at eight bells, sir,’ answered
Mr Coffin.
‘Let me see, then. We ought to sight the land by two. I shall go below
now, and get my coffee. Don’t alter her course, but call me if there is
any change. And, by-the-way, Mr Coffin, tell Mr Blythe that if he has
time to do it this morning, I want the booms put into the foremast.’
And with another glance towards the east, Captain Robarts retreated to
his berth.
Before the decks were washed, several of the male passengers had
ascended the poop. It was the usual custom with them aboard to be
called at five bells, and when six bells struck, and the decks had been
well scrubbed and ‘squeegeed’ down, to make their appearance above.
On the morning in question, however, the shellbacks had not yet
shipped their pumps and hose when Captain Lovell, Harold Greenwood,
Mr Vansittart, and others climbed up the ladder, and beset the mate
with questions. But when the nozzle commenced to play a stream of water
over their trousers, these gentlemen, whose shore rig-out (unlike the
sea-boots of the ship’s company) could not withstand the briny, took
refuge in the little pilot-house, and, lighting their cheroots, waited
till they might find a dry resting-place outside.
‘What did Mr Coffin say?’ asked Captain Lovell.
‘I couldn’t succeed in getting anything out of him,’ laughed Mr
Vansittart. ‘He only muttered something about sighting land this
afternoon.’
‘These sailors always like to be so confoundedly mysterious,’ remarked
another. ‘Why the deuce can’t the fellow satisfy our curiosity, instead
of talking in riddles? He must know perfectly well when the ship is
due.’
‘Wait till Blythe comes along. _He’ll_ tell us.’
‘Yes; he’s a very different build from these uncouth bears. Vernon
Blythe is a gentleman,’ said Lovell; ‘but Captain Robarts doesn’t know
how to answer a civil question, and Mr Coffin thinks it funny to slap
you in the face (metaphorically speaking) for asking it.’
‘Any room inside there for a little one?’ inquired Mr Fowler, looking
in at the doorway. ‘These fellows seem to enjoy throwing the water over
one.’
‘Yes; come in. Good-morning. How are you?’ said Lovell.
‘Jolly, thanks. Had a capital night’s rest. What’s the betting on the
passage now?’
‘Well, I’m afraid the odds will be longer, since the sun and barometer
have conspired to damp our hopes.’
‘What; are we going to have a blow?’ demanded Fowler.
‘So the mate thinks. The skipper has been on deck too, which is unusual
for him, I think. He does not, as a rule, leave his blankets so early.’
‘I noticed something queer about the sun when I was on the
quarter-deck,’ said Mr Fowler. ‘I am not much of a judge of such
matters, but it looked uncanny to me. By Jove! do you hear those gulls?
They are uttering the most discordant screams. I expect there is
something in that too.’
The voice of the first officer here broke in upon their conjectures.
‘Clew up the mizen royal,’ he shouted suddenly.
‘Hullo! it has begun already!’ exclaimed Captain Lovell; ‘let us go out
on deck. They can’t haul on the ropes and drench our trousers through
at the same time.’
The sun had risen clear of the horizon now, and was lighting up the
seething ocean, with its watery rays. The red clouds still hung about,
but their colour did not appear to be so vivid. In the westward, on the
starboard bow, a dusty-looking vapour obscured everything from view. As
the wind increased, the _Pandora_, with flowing sheets, quickened her
speed. The log then told nine and a half.
On all sides, the sea, instead of rolling in long swells, rose in the
air in chops, often breaking suddenly and dispersing in rivers of white
foam. The water gurgled through the crevices in the ports, and flowed
back through the scuppers. After much flapping, the royals were secured
and made fast to the yards, and then, the mizen-topgallant sail was
stowed, which made spits bounce aboard over the after mainrail.
Several vessels were passed.
A lively little coaster, under reefed topsails and storm staysail, and
a big smoke-jack, breasting the sea, steaming in the very teeth of the
wind, dipping her bows frequently, and ladling up large seas upon her
topgallant forecastle, that made the ‘look-out’ hastily lay aft, and
take up his responsible position on the bridge.
But the _Pandora_ had the best of it.
She was before the wind, and all her square canvas was drawing to
advantage. Little was eaten at the breakfast-table that day. Excitement
chased away hunger, and the ladies emerged from their berths, warmly
wrapped in hats and cloaks, and after swallowing a few hasty morsels,
went on deck to aid in keeping a good look-out. A hundred times the
binoculars and spy-glasses were levelled towards the land, and on each
occasion the eager questioners received an answer in the negative.
Two people alone on board ship appeared indifferent to their
whereabouts, and refused to sympathise with the animal spirits and glad
anticipations of the passengers. These were the captain of the vessel,
and his chief officer, who regarded the signs of the weather as far
more important and interesting than the proximity of land. At noon, the
main-topgallant sail was taken off her, and she then rolled heavily.
Large seas thumped over by the main chains, making the gangway
exceedingly difficult to traverse without receiving a shower bath.
The increased violence of the wind did not hasten the speed of the
_Pandora_, and it was not till four o’clock in the afternoon, when the
passengers had become weary of looking out for it, that a dark line in
the horizon, looming through the surrounding mist, intimated that they
were at last in sight of land.
‘That’s it, sure enough, sir,’ remarked Mr Coffin. ‘Those ugly crags
mark the entrance to the bay. But I don’t think we shall get anchorage
to-night.’
‘Nonsense! we are not thirty miles off,’ replied the captain.
‘But the wind is increasing, sir,’ argued the mate, ‘and we sha’n’t get
a pilot. So how about anchorage?’
‘Plenty of good anchorage there, Mr Coffin. I shall run in this evening
and bring up under the cliffs. We shall be under the hills by ten
o’clock.
‘Yes, sir; but I’ve known it to blow stiffer when it comes down
between those hills than when outside.’
To this remark Captain Robarts gave no answer but a grunt.
‘Are the anchors over the bows?’ he asked presently.
‘Yes, sir; we got them over in yesterday’s dog watch.’
‘See your cable ranged on deck clear for running, and tell the
carpenter to look to his windlass,’ and turning aft, the captain went
to alter her course.
‘Land, ho!’ shouted the man on the look-out, which made the passengers
jump from their seats, and rush to the side.
‘Ay, ay,’ replied Captain Robarts indifferently.
‘Let her go off a point,’ he continued, speaking to the helmsman, and
having satisfied himself that the vessel was on her right road, he
turned away to avoid any questions that might be put to him.
As soon as that longed-for cry had been sung out, everybody was
naturally eager to discern the promised land.
‘But I can’t see _anything_!’ exclaimed Alice Leyton. ‘I wish Jack was
here; I am sure there must be something wrong with these glasses.’
‘I expect it requires a practised eye,’ said Captain Lovell. ‘By Jove!
though, I can make out a headland over there. Can’t you see a grey
peak?’
‘I _think_ I can,’ replied Alice, but her tone was too doubtful to be
relied on.
But in the course of another hour, when two bells had been sounded in
the dog watch, the tall rugged form was distinctly visible, with its
rough beetling crags majestically facing the ocean, but the foot was
not apparent. There was a thick pearly mist on the face of the water,
that hid the breakers that dashed with such fury against the rocks from
view, and allowed only the summit of the land to be seen.
Will Farrell paced the quarter-deck, burning with thoughts of revenge.
He longed to confront his enemy Harland, and prove him to be the
murderer of the woman he had loved, and yet he dared not disobey the
orders of the detective.
‘Yet what if he should escape?’ he thought to himself, as his hands
nervously grasped the lappels of his coat. ‘Here we are within sight
of land, and the villain is cunning enough for anything. Once let him
get on shore, and neither Mark Rendle nor I will ever see him again.
He will hide like a fox. Surely the passengers ought to share our
knowledge and suspicions, that there may be the less chance of his
getting off scot free. He has done it once. Why should he not do it
again? Yet, if I should ruin all my chances of revenge! What _shall_ I
do?’
Almost as he thought thus, Godfrey Harland appeared before him. He had
been considerably upset by Iris’s reception of him the day before. Her
look and manner and speech had so palpably conveyed to him the truth
that _she_ suspected him of having had a share in the death of Maggie
Greet. And if she suspected it, perhaps Farrell did so too. And yet of
what avail were their suspicions, when they could not possibly have any
proofs, and would not dare to speak without them? Even the doctor’s
careful examination of the body had resulted (as Harland had taken
good care to ascertain) in his being unable to detect any signs of
violence. And now she was hidden from sight for evermore--buried in the
unfathomable depths of the sea, and no one had the right to call her
accidental death by any other name. At the same time, he had decided it
would be advisable to conciliate Farrell, if possible, before going on
shore, so as to prevent his tongue wagging more than was agreeable when
he got there. And to that intent Harland now approached his enemy,
with a pleasant smile and an outstretched palm. He could not have
chosen a more unfavourable moment for making his overtures of peace.
‘How are you, old man?’ he commenced airily, as he proffered his hand.
‘Here we are, you see, at the end of our journey, and to-morrow we
shall part, perhaps for ever.’
‘What do you mean by speaking to me?’ demanded Farrell, glaring at him.
‘_Mean!_ Why, that I want to part friends with you. Come along, and
have a drink.’
‘_Have a drink!_’ replied Farrell, dashing the offered hand to the
ground. ‘Do you imagine that _I_ would drink with _you_?’
‘And why not?’ said Harland, determined to brave it out. ‘What harm
have _I_ done you? Surely you are not going to harbour that old grudge
against me for ever. Come, man, try to forget and forgive. If ever it
is in my power, I’ll make it up to you--upon my soul I will; but just
at present I expect I’m as poor as yourself.’
‘_Make it up to me!_’ cried Farrell fiercely. ‘Can you give me back the
character you took away, or restore the woman who was to have been my
wife?’
At that allusion Harland grew ashy pale; for Farrell spoke so loud that
the whole ship might have heard him.
‘Hold your tongue, you young fool!’ he exclaimed. ‘You don’t know what
you’re talking about. I had no more to do with the girl’s death than
you had yourself. What’s the use of talking such nonsense, just because
we had a bit of a tiff over our play? Make it up like a sensible man,
and have a drink over it.’
‘Stand off!’ thundered Farrell; ‘don’t dare to approach me, or it will
be the worse for you.’
‘What do you mean? Are you drunk, or mad?’
‘Whichever you please; but if you don’t go at once it will be the worse
for you.’
Harland would have gone as desired, had not Bob Perry appeared at that
moment upon the scene.
‘Hullo, Farrell!’ he cried, ‘what’s up?’
‘This scoundrel dares to ask me to drink with him,’ replied Will hotly.
‘And, pray, what harm is there in that?’ asked Harland _nonchalantly_.
His manner irritated Farrell beyond endurance.
‘Do you presume to ask me?’ he cried. ‘Do you wish me to carry out my
threat, and expose you to the whole ship?’
‘You _dare_ not!’ hissed Harland in his ear; ‘you have not a single
proof to bring forward to support your lies; whilst _I_ should ask you
before them all how much you know of the disappearance of your leman
over the ship’s side the other night.’
‘_Liar!_’ exclaimed Will Farrell, flying at his throat, and in another
minute the two men were rolling on the deck together, locked in a
furious embrace. Perry called for help, and every one on deck was soon
witnessing the struggle. Again and again did the combatants spring up
and fly afresh at each other, but at last the screams of the women and
the expostulations of the men seemed to rouse them to some sense of
their disgraceful position, and, bruised and bleeding, they allowed
themselves to be separated. Harland was much the more severely punished
of the two, and seemed almost fainting, as he was supported between Dr
Lennard and Captain Lovell; but Farrell, pinioned in the strong arms of
Vernon Blythe, was quite ready to go on with the fight, and it demanded
all the strength of the young officer to prevent his flying at his
enemy again.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]