I was leaning over the starboard railing, waiting for a boat, when
Ross, the ship's doctor, came sauntering along the deck, puffing
contentedly at a large Manilla cigar.
"Hullo, Dryden!" he observed, in that pleasant drawling voice of his.
"Busy as usual?"
Having just completed five hours' strenuous toil, supervising the
unlading of cargo, I could afford to treat his effort at sarcasm with
the contempt that it deserved.
"Are you coming ashore?" I asked.
He shook his head. "I'm not the second officer of the _Neptune_;
I've got work to do. We are expecting another bundle of Dagoes on
board at three o'clock, and I must be around to examine their beastly
eyes." He knocked off the end of his cigar, which fluttered down
into the blue water of Leixoes Harbour. "Besides," he added, "what
on earth's the good of going ashore? There's nothing fresh to see in
Oporto."
"There's probably something fresh to smell," I replied hopefully.
"Anyhow, I'm going. I'm sick to death of the ship, and I want to
stretch my legs."
His glance travelled ironically downwards.
"I should have thought they were quite long enough already," he said.
"If you grow any bigger you will have to give up the sea, or else
join the White Star. There will be no room for you on the Planet
Line."
"Well, I shan't break my heart about it," I returned, laughing.
"I've had quite enough of the gay and bounding ocean to last me the
rest of my time."
He nodded sympathetically. "It's a dog's life," he admitted. "I
have often thought of chucking it myself and setting up as a Harley
Street specialist. The only objection is my incurable honesty and
truthfulness."
"In about a week," I remarked, "you would be packing up and bundling
off to Timbuctoo or Yokohama or somewhere. You've not got a simple,
restful nature like mine; you are one of those people who have to
keep on wandering about because their consciences won't let them
rest."
"It's not my conscience," he replied cheerfully. "I knocked the
nonsense out of that years ago. It's nothing but a silly habit I've
drifted into. If one paddles about the world long enough one gets a
sort of taste for it into one's blood, and when once that happens a
man's lost. It's worse than drink or opium." He leaned back against
the rail and surveyed me with mock seriousness. "Let my fate be a
warning to you, Dryden. If you feel any yearnings for a nice little
wife, and some chickens in the back garden, and a corner seat in the
parish church, you get out of this while you're still young and
innocent. Otherwise, in a few years' time, you will be just such
another case as I am."
"It's the horrible possibility of that," I explained, "that makes me
want to go ashore."
He laughed good-humouredly. "Well, go ashore then; and while you're
about it you might see if you can pick me up a new pipe. My old
one's getting positively insanitary." He glanced down it at the boat
which was coming alongside.
"By the way," he added, "you may come across the beautiful Miss de
Roda if you're lucky. She went off about half an hour ago."
"What, alone?" I asked.
"Quite alone," he returned encouragingly. "Uncle's still too seedy
to go bucketing about as a chaperon."
"Well, I wonder he allowed her on shore by herself," I remarked.
"It's the last thing I should have expected considering the way he
has bottled her up all the blessed voyage."
Ross smiled indulgently. "He probably thinks she's safe against
ordinary temptations. I expect it's only romantic-looking second
officers that he's frightened of." He walked with me to the head of
the ladder. "I suppose you'll want a boat to fetch you," he added.
"Don't forget we sail at six sharp."
"Oh, that will be all right," I replied, preparing to descend. "I'm
not sure what time I shall be back, so I'll get one of those ruffians
on the beach to bring me off."
I climbed down and took my place along with a couple of passengers
who had also been seized with a belated desire to set foot on the
soil of Portugal. A minute later we were moving rapidly across the
harbour towards the long stone jetty.
All the way in, despite the chatting of my companions, my thoughts
kept flitting persistently round the two people Ross and I had been
discussing. One meets many and various types of humanity on a South
American liner, but from the very first Señor de Roda and his niece
had aroused my especial interest.
They had joined the ship at Manaos, and I had happened to be standing
on the deck at the very moment when they had come on board. Two
things had struck me about them instantly; one was the fact that de
Roda himself looked wretchedly ill, and the other that his niece, on
whose arm he leaned heavily as he came up the gangway, was quite the
prettiest girl I had ever seen in my life. I am not much of a hand
at describing anyone's appearance, but if you can imagine yourself
coming face to face with one of Greuze's most lovely pictures,
suddenly brought to life and a little sunburned, you will get some
faint idea of my sensations at that particular moment. I am glad
that no one was with me, for I know that I stood there gaping at her
with a sort of stupefied admiration of which I should never have
heard the last during the remainder of the voyage.
To de Roda, on the other hand, I had only devoted the briefest of
glances. That, however, had left me with the impression of a tall,
powerfully built man of middle age, prematurely bent by illness, and
with a sallow face, from which two dark eyes looked out with a
curious and rather forbidding intensity.
The next moment they had passed me, and with an effort I had jerked
myself back into something like my usual self-possession.
Later on the same day, when I had happened to run across the purser,
I had made some enquiries concerning the new arrivals. Except for
supplying me with their names, however, he had been unable to give me
any information, beyond the fact that they had booked through for the
full voyage to London, and that they had taken the two best cabins
still available.
It was from Ross that I subsequently gleaned the few further
particulars I knew about them. His medical services had been called
in the first evening, and he had been in fairly regular attendance
throughout the whole voyage from Manaos to Oporto.
From one or two remarks he let drop I gathered that de Roda was
suffering from some form of heart trouble, and that although this
might, and probably would, get better for a time, any permanent
recovery was out of the question. The girl, it appeared, was his
patient's niece, and, unlike her uncle, who was an obvious South
American through and through, she herself was half English, and spoke
the language as fluently and readily as she did Spanish or Portuguese.
Ross declared that she was as charming to talk to as she was
beautiful to look at, but this was a statement that so far I had no
opportunity of putting to a practical test. Throughout the entire
voyage both uncle and niece had kept as strictly to themselves as any
two people could possibly do on an ocean-going steamer. For the
first day or so de Roda's state of health had rendered it advisable
that all his meals should be served in his cabin, and it was not
until we were half way across that either of them had appeared in the
saloon. Even then they had made arrangements with the steward that
they should have a private table, and so far as I knew they were only
on the barest speaking terms with any of the other passengers.
Very occasionally they would stroll round the deck in each other's
company, de Roda invariably holding his niece's arm and staring out
in front of him with a sombre look that was distinctly discouraging
to any casual advances. Now and then in the afternoons Miss de Roda
would establish herself in a quiet corner with a book and a deck
chair, but the few more intrusive spirits who had attempted to take
advantage of this fact did not seem to have met with any startling
success.
Personally, I had made no effort to follow in their steps. I will
confess straight away that this was not due to any indifference on my
part, for she occupied my thoughts in a curiously persistent and
disturbing fashion. My duties, however, left me little time for
talking to the passengers, and, apart from that, I had no wish to try
and force my acquaintance upon a girl who so obviously desired to be
left alone. At times I could not help wondering whether her attitude
in the matter was not dictated rather by loyalty to her uncle's
wishes than by any natural inclination for solitude; but still, that
made no difference to the facts of the case, which were sufficiently
obvious for any but the most thick-skinned individual.
So far as I was concerned, this slight touch of mystery only added to
her attractiveness. In spite of our never having spoken to each
other, I found that with each day of the voyage my interest in her
increased rather than lessened, a circumstance which I had been at
some particular pains to keep entirely to myself. As a rule I have
not the least objection to being chaffed, but for once in a way I
rather shrank from the raillery which Ross would certainly have
indulged in if he had had the remotest inkling of my real feelings.
In the middle of these meditations of mine we came alongside the
jetty, from which two or three nondescript longshoremen had been
eyeing our arrival with apathetic interest. For its size, Leixoes
seems to contain a remarkable number of leisured citizens, whose only
source of income appears to be the scanty earnings of their
hard-working wives.
My two companions were anxious to have a look round the village
before proceeding farther, so, leaving them to their own devices, I
walked up the beach and boarded an electric tram which was just about
to start for Oporto. Half an hour's run along the sandy road brought
me to that straggling city, which, with its mediæval charm and
shoddy, unfinished modern "improvements," gives one an illuminating
picture of Portuguese history.
I descended in the old quarter on the quay, where the tall,
tumble-down houses, with their quaint open fronts, still stare out
picturesquely over the broad waters of the Douro. A glass of
excellent iced beer in a neighbouring café washed away most of the
dust which had collected in my throat, and then, feeling remarkably
at peace with the world, I strolled off up the hill in the blazing
glare of an almost tropical sunshine.
For perhaps an hour I wandered leisurely about the town, buying one
or two things which I wanted--including Ross's pipe--and thoroughly
enjoying the sensation of being once more on solid ground. Then,
having nothing better to do, I turned my steps to the English Club,
where, through the kindness of the members--a very genial and
hospitable crowd--any officer of the Planet Line was always a welcome
guest.
Here I found one or two old acquaintances, including the British
Consul. All of them hailed me in the friendliest fashion. What with
cigars and talk and more iced drinks, the time slipped away so
rapidly that I suddenly woke up to the fact that I was cutting things
rather fine with regard to the return journey. I had intended to
walk back to Leixoes, but this was out of the question now, so,
bidding my kind hosts a hasty good-bye, I made my way to the
celebrated Rolling Square, where I found another obliging tram
waiting my convenience.
As I stepped inside, the very first person who met my eyes was Miss
de Roda. For the time I had quite forgotten that she was on shore,
and the spectacle of her sitting there quietly in the corner gave me
such a start that with a sudden unintentional movement I trod heavily
upon the conductor's toe. The explosion that followed, punctuated by
my apologies, naturally attracted her attention. She glanced up with
a half-suppressed smile quivering round the corners of her lips, and
behind it I thought I could detect a faint trace of friendly
recognition. Anyhow, I hesitated no longer. Taking my courage in
both hands, I walked up the tram to where she was sitting and raised
my cap.
"I hope you won't mind my introducing myself," I said. "I am the
second officer of the _Neptune_, and I think that you are one of our
passengers."
A slight but charmingly graceful movement of her head encouraged me
to take the vacant seat beside her.
"My name," I added, "is Dryden--John Dryden--the same as the poet."
She looked at me with a faint gleam of amusement still lurking in the
depths of her beautiful brown eyes.
"I know you by sight, Mr. Dryden," she said. "I have seen you on the
ship." Then she paused. "You must be proud of your name," she
added. "It is a very distinguished one."
"It was very nearly extinguished just now," I replied. "At least,
judging by what I could understand of the conductor's remarks."
She laughed softly--a low musical laugh that gave me a curious little
stab of pleasure.
"One can't blame him," she remarked. "You must be a dreadfully heavy
weight to come down suddenly upon anyone's toe."
I could hardly explain to her the real reason for my clumsiness, so I
took refuge in a piece of shameless dishonesty.
"I was in a hurry," I explained. "I had been talking to some friends
in the English Club, and I suddenly realised I should only just have
time to get back. Hence the catastrophe!"
She glanced at her watch. "We have left it rather late," she
admitted. "I have been doing some commissions for my uncle, and they
kept me a good deal longer than I expected." She looked up at me
with a slight trace of anxiety. "I suppose there is really no danger
of our missing the ship?" she asked.
I shook my head. "None at all. If there were I should have taken a
taxi. We shall be at Leixoes by half-past five, and it's only a ten
minutes' row to where the _Neptune's_ lying."
"Provided that we can get a boat," she added.
"Oh, there'll be no difficulty about that," I said. "There are
generally plenty on the beach, and if it came to the worst we could
always signal to the ship."
My reassurances seemed to have the desired effect, for she leaned
back in her seat with a relieved expression, and obviously dismissed
the matter from her thoughts.
It is not an easy thing to carry on a natural and unbroken
conversation in a Portuguese tram, handicapped as one is by the pace
at which the vehicle travels and the perpetual gong-ringing in which
all drivers so joyously indulge. Still, considering the difficulties
under which we laboured, we certainly got along together remarkably
well. Long before we reached Leixoes I was in full agreement with
Ross's statement that my companion was just as charming to talk to as
she was beautiful to look at, and all the way I was secretly blessing
the lucky accident which had given me the chance of making her
acquaintance.
One thing I noticed, however, and that was that although she talked
freely about the voyage and about her impressions of Oporto, she made
no further reference either to her uncle or to her own affairs. I
need hardly add that I was particularly careful to avoid saying
anything which might sound like an attempt to introduce either topic,
but the fact only strengthened my previous opinion that her
self-imposed solitude on board was due to some private reason rather
than to any natural aversion to society.
This belief was increased by the faint but curious suggestion of
reserve which seemed to linger in the background, even when she was
speaking about the most unimportant matters. It gave me the
impression that she regarded our conversation as a sort of unexpected
holiday--a holiday which for some mysterious reason she had no real
right to indulge in. Its only effect, however, was to render her
still more attractive, and I felt quite resentful against the
unnecessary efficiency of the Portuguese tram service, when we gonged
our way noisily into Leixoes five minutes after the appointed time
for our arrival.
Disentangling ourselves from the rest of the company, we made our way
down to the beach. Out in the harbour we could see the _Neptune_
busily engaged in getting up steam, while a few trading boats still
clustered round her side, making a final effort to coax money out of
her now wary passengers.
As we reached the shore a swarthy and rather truculent-looking
gentleman, decorated with silver ear-rings, came forward to meet us.
"You want to go to sheep?" he enquired, waving a dirty hand in the
direction of the _Neptune_.
I eyed him with some disfavour, but there appeared to be only one
boat on the beach, so it was no good being too fastidious.
"Bring her along to the edge of the jetty," I said, "and we'll get in
there."
With a shrill whistle through his fingers he summoned another and
equally unattractive individual to his aid, and the pair of them
commenced to haul their boat down into the water.
Miss de Roda and I walked along the causeway.
"I'm sorry I can't find you a handsomer crew," I said, "but it's a
question of Hobson's choice."
"Oh, they will do very well," she answered, smiling. "They are
probably the most respectable people really." Then she paused.
"It's a bad habit to judge by appearances," she added, with what
seemed to me the least touch of bitterness in her voice.
I looked at her steadily. "Perhaps you're right," I admitted. "All
the same, it's one of those bad habits that I'm rather a believer in."
To this remark she returned no answer, and the next minute the boat,
with its two unprepossessing occupants, came drifting alongside. We
took our places in the stern, facing the gentleman with the silver
ear-rings, who was pulling stroke. At closer quarters I thought I
had never seen a more sinister-looking rascal in my life, an
impression which was in no way mitigated by a large,
businesslike-looking knife, which he wore stuck in a sheath suspended
from his belt.
At a very leisurely pace we moved away from the jetty and headed in
the direction of the ship. Neither of the men appeared to be putting
the least energy into his work, and at any other time I should have
called their attention to the fact in pretty straight language. As
it was, the prospect of spending a few more minutes in my companion's
society reconciled me to their slackness, though the furtive way in
which they kept glancing at us annoyed me almost beyond endurance.
We had covered about half the distance, and were still some two
hundred yards from the _Neptune_, when, without any warning, both men
suddenly ceased rowing and rested their oars on the water.
I looked up at them sharply. "What are you doing?" I said. "Get on
at once."
The fellow with the silver ear-rings eyed me with provoking insolence.
"No--no," he said. "You pay us now. You pay us two pound and then
we take you to sheep."
Now the proper fee for a harbour boat at Leixoes is two shillings, so
for a moment the audacity of this demand almost took away my breath.
I suppose my face showed what I felt, for before I could speak Miss
de Roda leaned across and touched me on the arm.
"Please don't let my being with you make any difference, Mr. Dryden,"
she said. "Do exactly what you think best."
I had quite recovered myself by this time, and the cool way in which
she accepted the situation filled me with secret pleasure.