A Bid for Fortune Part 3

I can see her now, standing there looking into my face with big tears in her pretty blue eyes. She was a girl of about twenty-one or two years of age--tall, but slenderly built, with a sweet oval face, bright brown hair, and the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen in my life. She was dressed in some dark green material, wore a fawn jacket, and, because the afternoon was cold, had a boa of marten fur round her neck. I can remember also that her hat was of some flimsy make, with lace and glittering spear points in it, and that the whole structure was surmounted by two bows, one of black ribbon, the other of salmon pink.

"Oh, how can I thank you?" she began, when I had come up with her. "But for your appearance I don't know what those men might not have done to me."

"I was very glad that I _was_ there to help you," I replied, looking into her face with more admiration for its warm young beauty than perhaps I ought to have shown. "Here is your purse. I hope you will find its contents safe. At the same time will you let me give you a little piece of advice. From what I have seen this afternoon this is evidently not the sort of place for a young lady to be walking in alone and after dark. I don't think I would risk it again if I were you."

She looked at me for a moment and then said:

"You are quite right. I have only myself to thank for my misfortune. I met a friend and walked across the green with her; I was on my way back to my carriage--which is waiting for me outside--when I met those men.

However, I can promise you that it will not happen again. I am leaving Sydney in a day or two."

Somehow, when I heard that, I began to feel glad I was booked to leave the place too. But of course I didn't tell her so.

"May I see you safely to your carriage?" I said at last. "Those fellows may still be hanging about on the chance of overtaking you."

Her courage must have come back to her, for she looked up into my face with a smile.

"I don't think they will be rude to me again, after the lesson you have given them. But if you will walk with me I shall be very grateful."

Side by side we proceeded down the path, through the gates and out into the street. A neat brougham was drawn up alongside the kerb, and towards this she made her way. I opened the door and held it for her to get in.

But before she did so she turned to me and stretched out her little hand.

"Will you tell me your name, that I may know to whom I am indebted?"

"My name is Hatteras. Richard Hatteras, of Thursday Island, Torres Straits. I am staying at the _Quebec_."

"Thank you, Mr. Hatteras, again and again. I shall always be grateful to you for your gallantry!"

This was attaching too much importance to such a simple action, and I was about to tell her so, when she spoke again: "I think I ought to let you know who I am. My name is Wetherell, and my father is the Colonial Secretary. I'm sure he will be quite as grateful to you as I am.

Good-bye."

She seemed to forget that we had already shaken hands, for she extended her own a second time. I took it and tried to say something polite, but she stepped into her carriage and shut the door before I could think of anything, and next moment she was being whirled away up the street.

Now old fogies and disappointed spinsters can say what they please about love at first sight. I'm not a romantic sort of person--far from it--the sort of life I had hitherto led was not of a nature calculated to foster a belief in that sort of thing. But if I wasn't over head and ears in love when I resumed my walk that evening, well, I've never known what the pa.s.sion is.

A daintier, prettier, sweeter little angel surely never walked the earth than the girl I had just been permitted the opportunity of rescuing, and from that moment forward I found my thoughts constantly reverting to her. I seemed to retain the soft pressure of her fingers in mine for hours afterwards, and as a proof of the perturbed state of my feelings I may add that I congratulated myself warmly on having worn that day my new and fashionable Sydney suit, instead of the garments in which I had travelled down from Torres Straits, and which I had hitherto considered quite good enough for even high days and holidays. That she herself would remember me for more than an hour never struck me as being likely.

Next morning I donned my best suit again, gave myself an extra brush up, and sauntered down town to see if I could run across her in the streets.

What reason I had for thinking I should is more than I can tell you, but at any rate I was not destined to be disappointed. Crossing George Street a carriage pa.s.sed me, and in it sat the girl whose fair image had exercised such an effect upon my mind. That she saw and recognized me was evidenced by the gracious bow and smile with which she favoured me.

Then she pa.s.sed out of sight, and it was a wonder that that minute didn't see the end of my career, for I stood like one in a dream looking in the direction in which she had gone, and it was not until two carts and a brewer's wagon had nearly run me down that I realized it would be safer for me to pursue my meditations on the side walk.

I got back to my hotel by lunch-time, and during the progress of that meal a brilliant idea struck me. Supposing I plucked up courage and called? Why not? It would be only a polite action to inquire if she were any the worse for her fright. The thought was no sooner born in my brain than I was eager to be off. But it was too early for such a formal business, so I had to cool my heels in the hall for an hour. Then, hailing a hansom and inquiring the direction of their residence, I drove off to Potts Point. The house was the last in the street--an imposing mansion standing in well-laid-out grounds. The butler answered my ring, and in response to my inquiry dashed my hopes to the ground by informing me that Miss Wetherell was out.

"She's very busy, you see, at present, sir. She and the master leave for England on Friday in the _Orizaba_."

"What!" I cried, almost forgetting myself in my astonishment. "You don't mean to say that Miss Wetherell goes to England in the _Orizaba_?"

"I do, sir. And I do hear she's goin' 'ome to be presented at Court, sir!"

"Ah! Thank you. Will you give her my card, and say that I hope she is none the worse for her fright last evening?"

He took the card, and a substantial tip with it, and I went back to my cab in the seventh heaven of delight. I was to be shipmates with this lovely creature! For four weeks or more I should be able to see her every day! It seemed almost too good to be true. Instinctively I began to make all sorts of plans and preparations. Who knew but what--but stay, we must bring ourselves up here with a round turn, or we shall be antic.i.p.ating what's to come.

To make a long story short--for it must be remembered that what I am telling you is only the prelude to all the extraordinary things that will have to be told later on--the day of sailing came. I went down to the boat on the morning of her departure, and got my baggage safely stowed away in my cabin before the rush set in.

About three o'clock we hove our anchor and steamed slowly down the Bay.

I had been below when the Wetherells arrived on board, so the young lady had not yet become aware of my presence. Whether she would betray any astonishment when she did find out was beyond my power to tell; at any rate, I know that I was by a long way the happiest man aboard the boat that day. However, I was not to be kept long in suspense. Before we had reached the Heads it was all settled, and satisfactorily so. I was standing on the promenade deck, just abaft the main saloon entrance, watching the panorama spread out before me, when I heard a voice I recognized only too well say behind me:

"Good-bye to you, dear old Sydney. Great things will have happened when I set eyes on you again."

Little did she know how prophetic were her words. As she spoke I turned and confronted her. For a moment she was overwhelmed with surprise, then, stretching out her hand, she said:

"Really, Mr. Hatteras, this is most wonderful. You are the last person I expected to meet on board."

"And perhaps," I replied, "I might with justice say the same of you."

She turned to a tall, white-bearded man beside her.

"Papa, I must introduce you to Mr. Hatteras. You will remember I told you how kind Mr. Hatteras was when those larrikins were rude to me in the Domain."

"I am sincerely obliged to you, Mr. Hatteras," he said, holding out his hand and shaking mine heartily. "My daughter did tell me, and I called yesterday at your hotel to thank you personally, but you were unfortunately not at home. Are you visiting Europe?"

"Yes; I'm going home for a short visit to see the place where my father was born."

"Are you then, like myself, an Australian native? I mean, of course, as you know, colonial born?" asked Miss Wetherell with a little laugh. The idea of her calling herself an Australian native in any other sense! The very notion seemed preposterous.

"I was born at sea, a degree and a half south of Mauritius," I answered; "so I don't know what you would call me. I hope you have comfortable cabins?"

"Very. We have made two or three voyages in this boat before, and we always take the same places. And now, papa, we must really go and see where poor Miss Thompson is. We are beginning to feel the swell, and she'll be wanting to go below. Good-bye for the present."

I raised my cap and watched her walk away down the deck, balancing herself as if she had been accustomed to a heaving plank all her life.

Then I turned to watch the fast receding sh.o.r.e, and to my own thoughts, which were none of the saddest, I can a.s.sure you. For it must be confessed here--and why should I deny it?--that I was in love from the soles of my deck shoes to the cap upon my head. But as to the chance, that I, a humble pearler, would stand with one of Sydney's most beautiful daughters--why, that's another matter, and one that, for the present, I was anxious to keep behind me.

Within the week we had left Adelaide behind us, and four days later Albany was also a thing of the past. By the time we had cleared the Lewin we had all settled down to our life aboard ship, the bad sailors were beginning to appear on deck again, and the medium voyagers to make various excuses for their absences from meals. One thing was evident, that Miss Wetherell was the belle of the ship. Everybody paid her attention, from the skipper down to the humblest deck hand. And this being so, I prudently kept out of the way, for I had no desire to be thought to presume on our previous acquaintance. Whether she noticed this I cannot tell, but at any rate her manner to me when we _did_ speak was more cordial than I had any right or reason to expect it would be.

Seeing this, there were not wanting people on board who scoffed and sneered at the idea of the Colonial Secretary's daughter noticing so humble a person as myself, and when it became known what my exact social position was, I promise you these malicious whisperings did not cease.

One evening, two or three days after we had left Colombo behind us, I was standing at the rails on the promenade deck a little abaft the smoking-room entrance, when Miss Wetherell came up and took her place beside me. She looked very dainty and sweet in her evening dress, and I felt, if I had known her better, I should have liked to tell her so.

"Mr. Hatteras," said she, when we had discussed the weather and the sunset, "I have been thinking lately that you desire to avoid me."

"Heaven forbid! Miss Wetherell," I hastened to reply. "What on earth put such a notion into your head?"

"All the same I believe it to be true. Now, why do you do it?"

"I have not admitted that I do do it. But, perhaps, if I do seem to deny myself the pleasure of being with you as much as some other people I could mention, it is only because I fail to see what possible enjoyment you can derive from my society."

"That is a very pretty speech," she answered, smiling, "but it does not tell me what I want to know."

"And what is it that you want to know, my dear young lady?"