Bluebell Part 38

"You might be a corsair's bride," said Mr. Dutton, admiringly, "you are so indifferent to discomfort and danger. I can't fancy you shut up in a poky school-room, taking regular walks, and teaching Dr. Watts to tiresome children."

"I have only one pupil of a musical and romantic turn. You are altogether wrong in thinking me indifferent to luxury; I am quite longing to be in a comfortable house again."

"Your penance will be over in a day or two. Why do you stay out to be drenched with spray and perished with cold?" very discontentedly.

"How can I be either with all these wraps? and, when you are not sulky, your society _is_ preferable to Mrs. Oliphant's!"

"Yes; that is about my place in your--what shall I call it? Regard is a nice, proper word,--just more acceptable than the plainest and most spiteful woman on board."

"Rather more than that," said Bluebell, gently. "It would have been far worse without you; but after this voyage we are not likely to meet again, though I shall never think of it without remembering my friend."

"What a nice word!" savagely. "Why don't you add,--

'Others may woo me--thou art my friend?'

Do you know that song, Miss Leigh?"

"Yes," laughing.

"'Lonely and sadly his young life did end; Pause by my tombstone, and pity thy friend.'

It's enough to draw tears from one's eyes."

"Well!" said the lieutenant, "I never met a Canadian girl before, but I see now they are the coldest, most insensible--oh! of course, you only laugh. How do you know we shall never meet again? Suppose I call on you in your new--situation."

"Governesses are not allowed 'followers.' I mean, male visitors would be considered as such."

"Couldn't I get a tutorship in the same family?"

"There are no boys. Gracious! what a wave. Surely it is getting rougher, Mr. Dutton?"

"Well, yes. I think I must take you down. The next roller may wash over you. Lean all your weight on me, or you'll be blown off your feet."

In a most incoherent manner she reached the gangway, and, clinging to the banisters, reeled into her cabin, where was Mrs. Oliphant in hysterics.

The stewardess was in attendance, and she was insisting on her immediately fetching the captain, as, without his a.s.surance that there was no danger, she declined to be calm.

"As if the captain could leave his bridge!" said Bluebell, laughing. "And I am sure the ship would go down if he did."

Another shriek from Mrs. Oliphant, who, with a desperate effort, seized on a life-belt, and called to the stewardess to a.s.sist in its adjustment.

"Oh, dear!" cried Bluebell. "And what is to become of me? However, you are quite welcome to it. I had sooner be drowned at once than bob about on a wave, with sharks nibbling at my toes for an hour or two previously."

"Perhaps, ma'am, now this young lady be come, who seems to have a good heart," said the stewardess, "you will let me go to Mrs. Preston and Mrs.

Butler, who have been wanting me ever so long."

"No; I will not be deserted. Mrs. Butler has her husband and Mrs. Preston has her maid."

"Oh, she is worse than all! She sent down for Mrs. Preston to come up and speak to her, as she was dying as fast as she could, and the poor lady couldn't as much as lift her own 'ead."

"And you are not so very bad," said Bluebell, encouragingly. "Think of Mrs. Dove, of the 100th 'Scatterers,' and don't give way."

So, partly by laughing and partly by gentle determination, she brought her round, and favoured the escape of the stewardess.

It was not a very agreeable task soothing this selfish and cowardly woman; and she was by no means a.s.sured that there was no cause for anxiety. Her thoughts reverted to Bertie. Suppose they were all drowned.

In theory she hoped Cecil would be happy with him. Still there was a _soupcon_ of gratification in imagining him mourning in secret anguish and remorse over her untimely end. She remembered his favourite poem in the "Wanderer" that Cecil used to read, and the lines,--

"I thought were she only living still, How I could forgive her and love her."

Only in this instance forgiveness was more due from her.

Mr. Dutton here knocked at the door, to offer to help them up stairs to dinner; but Mrs. Oliphant had dropped asleep, exhausted by her emotions, so they went up alone. Only a few gentlemen were in the saloon, and the widow lady, whom everybody had begun to like, she was so unselfish and contented.

Dinner was consumed in a picnic fashion. Bluebell's modic.u.m of sherry had to be tossed off at once in a tumbler, for the gla.s.ses were dancing a hornpipe on the table, plates required a restraining hand, and their contents to be conveyed to the mouth with as much accuracy of aim as was attainable.

She thought compa.s.sionately of the careworn mother of H'Emma, who probably would have been quite neglected during the gale, and determined to take her something, and get Mr. Dutton to carry it and steady her own footsteps. Nothing could exceed the discomfort in which they found them.

The nursery-maid was imbecile from terror and prostrate with sickness, and the hara.s.sed mother doing the best she could.

To begin with, H'Emma had received a whipping, which, however undeserved, was probably the most judicious course, by inspiring fort.i.tude, and cutting off all hopes of undue indulgence.

The poor woman was very grateful for the visit. "No one had been near them," she said; "and the girl was so frightened, and H'Emma had screamed so, she was at her wits' end."

"I am surprised at you, Emma!" said Mr. Dutton. "When, you are grown up you may be as frightened as you please; but if you don't practise self-command as a child, you'll be very properly whipped."

At this allusion to her misfortunes another howl seemed impending, only that her attention was arrested by an orange tossed carelessly in the air.

"Whoever catches it may have it. Don't look at mamma; she has abdicated for the present, and we are here to put the kingdom to rights. Don't you think, Emma," in a whisper, "it would be a very good thing if that squalling, bald-headed young fraternity of yours were slapped?"

"Mammy says it is his teeth."

"No reason he should set ours on edge. I'd compose him if I had the chance! Well, Miss Leigh, if I can't fetch anything else for this lady, I'll go on deck, and return presently to report progress and help you back again."

The storm raged for many hours more, and struck terror into the hearts of the women and children. Mr. Dutton and some of the other gentlemen were up all night, as well as the captain and officers; but the morning rose calm and delicious over a sleeping sea, and cheerfulness and high spirits reigned in the ship. They were within a day of land, too--a more welcome prospect than ever, after the perils and dangers of the night. The dinner-table had scarcely an absentee, and was far more lively than it had ever been yet.

"One can sleep comfortably to-night, being so near land," cried the thoughtless Mrs. Butler.

"There have been more shipwrecks off the coast of Ireland than any other," said Mr. Dutton, sardonically. He was the only one who did not display unmixed delight at reaching England; and, when other people are exuberantly rejoicing at the very thing that is annoying ourselves, to moderate their transports a little is a satisfaction.

"Oh, how can you be so shocking! But I don't believe you. Once we are in sight of land, if there were any danger, what would prevent us getting into boats and rowing to it?"

And then Mr. Dutton plunged into a ghastly tale of a steamer that had struck on the Irish coast at night, and the pa.s.sengers had to take to the boats in their bed-clothes. One poor mother, with a baby tied on her back with a shawl, and another child in her arms, found the shawl empty, the infant having slipped out into the sea; and how they remained beating about for hours before they could land, nearly perished with cold from insufficient clothing.

Everybody seemed provided with similar anecdotes, and yarn succeeded yarn till late in the evening, when a message from the captain that Ireland was in sight brought them all on deck. The moon was shining softly over the beautiful mountains and valleys of ----. A more exquisite little picture could hardly have been presented to the eye wearied of perpetual gazing on the pathless ocean. Exclamations of delight were heard on all sides, while some prosaically remarked it was almost as fine as scenes in "Peep o' Day" or "The Colleen Bawn." To Bluebell it was fairy-land. To begin with, she had never seen a mountain, and the picturesque in Canada is on too large a scale for the little details that give beauty to scenery. Her conception of the Emerald Isle, founded on Lover's ballads and Lever's romances, was completely realized.

"How haunting!" said she, in a hushed whisper. "What a pity to go any further, and be disenchanted, perhaps!"

"I wish," said Mr. Dutton, "you would think you might go further and fare worse in another case,"--which ambiguous speech, it must be supposed, was not intended to be taken literally; for, though youthful susceptibility and propinquity had given birth to a hasty pa.s.sion, and he was savage enough at the prospect of parting, to a young man dependent on an uncle and residing chiefly at sea a penniless wife might have its embarra.s.sments.

Bluebell had glided down the companion again. The mails were landed, the pilot came on board, and next morning they were steaming into the Mersey.