A Life For a Love Part 26

The hours flew by; he raised his head and looked at the clock. Nine, it was striking nine. He heard a sound on board, and his pulses quickened.

It pa.s.sed--it was nothing. The clock struck ten, it was a beautiful starlight night. All the other pa.s.sengers who had already come on board were amusing themselves on deck.

Gerald was alone in the saloon. Again there was a sound a little different from the constant cries of the sailors.

Captain Jellyby's name was shouted, and there was a rush, followed by renewed activity. Gerald rose slowly, shut his book, and went on deck.

It was a dark night although the sky was clear and full of stars. A man in an overcoat and collar turned well up over his ears brushed past Wyndham, made for the gangway and disappeared.

"Good heavens--how like that man was to old Helps," soliloquized Gerald.

He stayed on deck a little longer; he thought his imagination had played him a trick, for what could bring Helps on board the _Esperance_. Presently the captain joined him.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

"I am sorry, Mr. Wyndham," said Captain Jellyby, "to have to offer you on your very first night on board my good ship very broken slumbers. We shall be lading with coals all night. Are you easily disturbed by noise! But I need scarcely ask, for that noise would almost rouse the dead."

Gerald smiled.

"A broken night is nothing," he said; "at least to me. I suppose there always is a great commotion the last night before a vessel sails on a long voyage."

"Not as a rule--at least that isn't my way. We meant to break off and have a quiet time at midnight, and start operations again at six o'clock in the morning. But I've had directions from head quarters which oblige me to quicken my movements. Doocid inconvenient, too!"

"What do you mean?" said Gerald, the pulses round his heart suddenly quickening. "We sail at noon to-morrow."

"We sail at eight in the morning, my good sir, and I, for one, call it doocid inconvenient. (Yes, Cadgers, what do you want? Get all hands possible on board.) I beg your pardon, Mr. Wyndham. (Yes, Cadgers.) Back with you presently, sir."

The captain disappeared, and Wyndham went down to his cabin.

What did this sudden change mean? Who had given the order? Was that really Helps who had been on board? Well, Wyndham was in a manner master on this vessel. It was his own, part of his property; he had been told over and over again by his father-in-law that on this voyage, this pleasant voyage, he could give his own orders, and short of anything which would jeopardize the safety of the boat, the captain would humor his wishes. He would countermand an order which was putting everybody out; he did not choose to leave his native sh.o.r.e before the time specified--noon on the following day. In such a short life as his even four hours were of moment. He would not lose the four hours of hope, of the possibility of hope yet left to him.

He went on deck, sought out the captain where he was standing, shouting out hoa.r.s.e directions to gangs of energetic looking sailors.

"A word with you, Captain Jellyby," he said. "There is some mistake in the order which you have received. I mean that I am in a position to cancel it. I do not wish the _Esperance_ to sail before noon to-morrow."

His voice was very distinct and penetrating, and the sailors stopped work and looked at him. Astonishment was written legibly on their faces.

"Lade away boys, work with a will," said the captain. Then he put his hand on Gerald's shoulder, turned him round, and walked a pace or two away.

"I quite understand your position, Mr. Wyndham," he said. "And in all possible matters I shall yield you due deference. But----"

"Yes," said Wyndham.

"But--we sail at eight to-morrow morning, sharp."

"What do you mean? Who has given you the order?"

"I am not prepared to say. My orders are explicit. Another time, when Captain Jellyby can meet the wishes of Mr. Wyndham with a clear conscience, his orders shall also be explicit."

The captain bowed, laid his hand across his heart and turned away.

Wyndham went back to his own cabin, and was tortured all night by a desire, sane or otherwise, he could not tell which, to leave the _Esperance_ and return to London and Valentine.

The lading of the vessel went on ceaselessly, and sharp at eight the following morning she weighed anchor and steamed away. Wyndham had lain awake all night, but at seven in the morning he fell into a doze. The doze deepened into quietness, into peaceful and refreshing slumber: the lines departed from his young face; he had not undressed, but flung himself as he was on his berth. When the _Esperance_ was flying merrily through the water, Captain Jellyby had time to give Wyndham a thought.

"That is a nice lad," he said to himself. "He has a nice face, young too. I don't suppose he has seen five-and-twenty, but he knows what trouble means. My name is not Jack Jellyby if that young man does not know what pretty sharp trouble means. Odd, too, for he's rich and has married the chief's daughter, and what a fuss the chief made about his reception here. No expense to be spared; every comfort given, every attention shown, and his orders to be obeyed within reason. Ay, my pretty lad, there's the rub--within reason. You looked keen and vexed enough last night when I had to hasten the hour for the departure of the _Esperance_. I wonder what the chief meant by that. Well, I'll go and have a look at young Wyndham; he may as well come with me and see the last of his native sh.o.r.e. As the morning is fine it will be a pretty sight."

The captain went and begged for admission to Wyndham's cabin. There was no answer, so he opened the door and poked his red smiling face round.

"Bless me, the boy's asleep," he said; and he came up and took a good look at his new pa.s.senger.

Gerald was dreaming now, and a smile played about his lips. Suddenly he opened his eyes and said:--

"Yes, Valentine, yes, I'm coming!" and sprang to his feet.

The captain was standing with his legs a little apart, looking at him.

The vessel gave a lurch, and Wyndham staggered.

"Are we off?" he said. "Good G.o.d, are we really off?"

"We were off an hour ago, young sir. Come up on deck and see what a pretty coast line we have just here."

Wyndham put his hand to his forehead.

"I have been cheated," he said suddenly. "Yes. I've been cheated. I can't speak about it; things weren't clear to me last night, but I had a dream, and I know now what it all means. I woke with some words on my lips. What did I say, captain?"

"You called to some fellow of the name of Valentine--your brother, perhaps."

"I haven't a brother. The person to whom I called was a woman--my wife.

She was coming on board. She would have sailed with me if we had waited. Now it is too late."

The captain raised his s.h.a.ggy brows the tenth of an inch.

"They must be sending him on this voyage on account of his health," he mentally soliloquized. "Now I see daylight. A little touched, poor fellow. Pity--nice fellow. Well, the chief might have trusted me. Of course I must humor him, poor lad. Come on deck," he said aloud. "It's beastly close down here. You should have the porthole open, the sea is like gla.s.s. Come on deck and get a breath of fresh air. Isn't Valentine a rather uncommon name for a woman? Yes, of course, I heard you were married. Well, well, you'll be home again in six months. Now come on deck and look around you."

"Look here, captain," said Gerald suddenly. "I can't explain matters.

I daresay you think me queer, but you're mistaken."

"They all go on that tack," muttered the captain. "Another symptom.

Well, I must humor him. I don't think you queer," he said, aloud.

"You're finely mistaken. You had a dream, and you called on your wife, whom you have just parted from. What more natural? Bless you. I know all about it. I was married myself."

"And you left your wife?"

"I left her, and what is worse she left me. She went up to the angels.

Bless her memory, she was a young thing. I see her yet, as she bade me good-bye. Come on deck, lad."