Road to Paradise Island

ON THE HIGH SEAS

On a bright September day in the company of Felicity Derring and Miss Cartwright I boarded the Southern Cross. The weeks had been so busy that I had hardly had time to think of all that was happening. It seemed incredible when I looked back—the coming of Jan and now my departure. A year ago I would not have believed this could possibly have happened.

My emotions were mixed. I was doing what I wanted to do, what I had to do if I was ever going to know peace of mind; on the other hand I was setting out on what might well be a disappointing enterprise.

Granny M had been hard to convince.

"A wild-goose chase," she called it. "What are you going to do when you get there?"

I replied: "I shall have to wait and see what I find. But I feel in my heart that I am going to find the truth."

"I'm surprised at Raymond. He's encouraged you in this. I should have thought he would have done all he could to keep you here."

"Raymond understands me. He knows I can't be happy until I know. Philip is part of me. You must understand that, Granny. We were always together. I can't just let him go out of my life and not know why and where he is."

"Don't you think I feel the same? Are you the only one with any feelings?"

"I know, Granny," I said. "But I'll find out and I'll come back and when I do, I'll marry Raymond. He understands. That is why he is helping me to go."

"I don't want to lose both of you, you know."

"You won't, Granny. I'll come back. Perhaps I'll bring Philip with me."

"Where do you think he is then? Hiding away from us?"

"I don't know, Granny. But I am going to find out. Try to understand. You have Jan with you now..."

"H'm. I expect he'll be wanting to go off to Australia next. How shall I know what's happening to you?"

"Granny, it is only a trip. Lots of people take them. I shall be with Felicity and Miss Cartwright, and I shall have to come back when she does."

I cannot say that she was agreeable to the project but she was resigned.

I had seen a little more of Felicity and Miss Cartwright since I first met them, and I felt I knew Miss Cartwright well. She was one of those forthright, self-righteous women—of whom there are so many about that they have become stock characters. I even used to guess what she was going to say before she said it.

It was different with Felicity. On the surface she seemed meek, rather insipid. But I was not sure that this was truly so. I felt she was hiding secrets. I wondered what.

I thought of what I should do when I reached Sydney. I supposed I should have to accompany them out to this place which they referred to as "a property" and which I learned was in New South Wales, some miles out of Sydney. Then I supposed I should be expected to stay there for a while until Miss Cartwright was ready to return. But what should I find out there? It was hardly likely that Felicity's prospective bridegroom would have known Philip. That would be asking too much of coincidence.

Still, I was on my way, and I had an unshakable belief that something would come to guide me. I was still thinking of Ann Alice and I had the strange feeling that she was watching, helping me along the way she wanted me to go.

Granny came to Tilbury to see us off, in the company of Raymond and Jan. It was gratifying to see the way in which Jan put his arm round Granny as though to comfort her. Her mouth was tight with disapproval and suppressed emotion. But in my heart I knew she understood and that had she been my age and the opportunity had arisen, she would have acted just as I was doing.

I don't think for a moment she believed I was going to solve the mystery, but she did realize that I had to do something. I could not remain inactive. I had to try and if I failed I would come back and if I could not exactly put it all out of my mind I could at least convince myself that I could do no more and must accept what was.

I was rather glad when the last farewells had been said. Such moments are always rather agonizing. One is aware of the emotional atmosphere all around one—parents, sons, daughters, lovers... parting. One senses the apprehension of those who were leaving home to go into the unknown—even though they had chosen to do so.

Raymond held my hands tightly and said: "When you come back..."

"Yes," I repeated, "when I come back."

"It won't be long."

"Perhaps not."

"I shall be here to meet you."

"Yes... please do. And thank you, Raymond. Thank you for all you have done for me."

I clung to him for a moment. Then I kissed Granny and Jan once more and without turning back went on board.

What a noise! What a bustle everywhere! People seemed to be running about in confusion. Orders were shouted; sirens blew.

Felicity and Miss Cartwright shared a cabin. Mine was next to theirs and I shared with a young Australian girl who was travelling with her parents.

I looked round the small space which was to be my home for the next weeks and wondered how I should manage. There were two bunks, a dressing table with a few drawers and a cupboard. I had not been there long when my travelling companion arrived.

She was a big girl of about my age—sun-tanned with thick wiry fair hair and a breezy manner.

She said: "Hello. So we're stable mates, are we? Bit of a tight squeeze, but we'll have to make the best of it, won't we? Would you mind if I have the top bunk? I don't like the idea of people climbing over me."

I said I did not mind in the least.

"I hope you haven't much gear," she said. "Space a bit limited, isn't it? My name is Maisie Winchell. Pa and Ma are a few cabins along. We're in wool. What are you going out for? Let me guess. Going out to get married, are you? Some Aussie came over looking for a wife and found you."

"Quite wrong," I told her. "Though I am travelling with a friend who is going out for that purpose, and my name is Annalice Mallory."

"Oh, I say! I like that. Annalice, eh? Call me Maisie. Everyone does. And you'll have to learn to be free and easy out there."

"I am ready to be, Maisie," I said.

She nodded with approval and we divided up the cupboard and the drawer space.

After that I went to the cabin next door to see how Felicity and Miss Cartwright were faring.

Miss Cartwright was complaining about the lack of space and Felicity said it was a good thing that her trunks, full of the things she was taking with her, were in the hold.

We went into the dining room together.

There were few people there. The Captain was not present, naturally, for I supposed he was on the bridge taking the ship out of the harbour. We were too excited to eat though the soup was good and appetizing.

I noticed a man seated close to us who appeared to be watching us intently. He was very striking-looking because of his height. He must have been well over six feet tall and correspondingly broad. There was a boldness about him which I rather resented because he did seem to be particularly interested in our party. He was very fair and his hair had a bleached look as though he spent a great deal of time in the open air. He had deep blue eyes which looked startling in his sun-tanned face. When I caught his eyes—which I could not help doing because every time I looked up he appeared to be staring at me—he smiled.

I lowered my gaze and looked away.

Miss Cartwright said the soup was not hot enough and she hoped the food was going to be edible. She had heard that shipboard fare was very poor.

Felicity said little. She looked pale. No doubt her preparations had been particularly strenuous and she was taking a big step in leaving her home for a man whom she had only known a month before she decided to marry him.

When we left the dining room the big man was still sitting there. We had to pass close to him.

He said: "Good evening."

There was nothing to do but respond so I said: "Good evening."

"I think we are in for a rough night," he added.

I nodded and went on quickly.

Miss Cartwright said: "What impertinence! To speak to us like that! And to say it was going to be a rough night! He seemed quite pleased about it."

"Perhaps he was just trying to be friendly," I said.

"I daresay we shall be introduced by the Captain or officers to those people we ought to know."

"I doubt it will be as formal as that," I replied. "We shall have to wait and see."

I bade good night to them, saying I would go to my cabin and unpack.

This I did. Maisie came in while I was thus engaged.

She confirmed the stranger's view that the sea was going to be rough. "Wait till we get in the Bay." She grinned.

"You're a seasoned traveller, I imagine."

"Pa comes over every two years or so. We're in wool, as I said. Property north of Melbourne. Ma comes with him and I don't let them leave me behind. I like to have a squint at the Old Country."

"Do you enjoy that?"

"Oh yes. Nice to get back home though ... to feel free and easy."

"You find us rather formal?"

She just looked at me and laughed. "Well, what do you think?" Then she started to tell me about the property near Melbourne.

I said: "I must introduce you to Miss Derring. I am travelling with her and her aunt and she is going out to marry a man who has one of these properties not far from Sydney."

"Oh, New South Wales. We're Victoria, you know."

I laughed with her. "Quite clearly," I said, "there is no place like home."

I thought I should get on with her very well.

They were right about the rough night. I awoke to find myself almost pitched out of my bunk.

"It's nothing yet," said Maisie from above, almost gleefully. "It's a pity it couldn't have waited awhile. Just to let first-timers get their sea legs."

"Oh, they come in time, do they ... sea legs?"

"To some they do. To others never. You're either a good sailor or you're not. I hope you are going to be a good one. Try to forget about it. That's the secret. Fresh air too... that's a help. I'm tired. Good night. We won't need rocking tonight."

I lay awake for a little while listening to the creaking of the wood and the whistling of the wind as the waves pounded against the sides of the ship. Maisie was right. Finally the rocking sent me to sleep.

The next morning, when I awoke, it was to find that the wind had not abated. It was difficult to stand up in the cabin but I managed to stagger along to the bathroom and dress. I felt quite well but these operations took some time because of the movement of the ship.

Maisie said from the top bunk: "I'll get up when you've gone. We'll make that arrangement. There's not room for two to dress at the same time. Do you feel like breakfast?"

"Just a cup of coffee and bread and butter perhaps."

"That's good. Then I'd get some fresh air if I were you. If you can take food, that's the best thing. Food and fresh air."

I went to the next cabin to see how Felicity and Miss Cartwright were.

They were both feeling ill and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. So I went to the dining room. There was hardly anyone there. I had coffee and bread and butter and, taking Maisie's advice, went on deck.

The waves were washing over it and I could scarcely stand. I found a dry spot under the lifeboats, and, wrapping myself in a rug which I found in a locker, I sat down and contemplated the raging sea.

I thought of arriving in Sydney. A wild-goose chase. I could hear Granny's voice. Was that what it was going to be.

Someone was staggering along the deck. I saw at once that it was the big man I had seen in the dining room and I felt faintly irritated but a little intrigued. It would not have surprised me if I discovered he had followed me up here. He took a seat beside me.

"Why, hello," he said. "You're a bold young lady, braving the elements."

"I am told it is the best thing."

"If you have the nerve for it. Ninety per cent of our passengers are groaning in their bunks. Do you know that?"

"I didn't and I am not sure that the percentage is accurate."

"How many did you see in the dining room? How many are here? Fortunately only two which is far more interesting than a crowd."

"Do you think so?"

"I do, indeed. But I am lacking in courtesy. I should, of course, have asked permission to sit down with you."

"Isn't it a little late to do so now?"

"It is a fait accompli, as they say. Where else is there to sit? It is the only dry spot... here under the lifeboats. Permission granted?"

"What would you do if it were denied?"

"I should sit here just the same."

"Then to ask is rather superfluous, isn't it?"

"I can see you are a very logical young lady. Let me introduce myself. I am Milton Harrington. A noble name you think. Milton. Thou shouldst be living at this hour...' and all that. I'll tell you how it came about. My mother was a very beautiful lady—as you may well imagine from my inherited charms—and before I arrived in the world I gave her a wretched time. She was unable to indulge in her social activities which were the meaning of life to her. Paradise Lost, you see. And as soon as I—the most delightful cherub you could ever imagine—was laid in her arms, she cried: 'Paradise Regained.' So after that I just had to be Milton."

I was laughing. I had forgotten the uneasiness the wild weather had created in me. I had forgotten my seemingly hopeless mission. I was just amused. He was so sure of himself, so persistent in his determination to drum up an acquaintance.

"Now," he said, "it is your turn."

"Annalice Mallory," I said. "Ann Alice were two names which were used a great deal in our family for generations. Well, my grandmother, who had the task of naming me, decided to ring the changes, join them together and she came up with Annalice."

"Annalice," he said. "I like it. It's unusual. It suits you."

"Thank you for the compliment ... if it is a compliment. Unusual, I suppose, could mean unusually unpleasant."

"In this case it means quite the reverse."

"Then I will renew my thanks. How long will this weather last? Do you travel often?"

"One can never be sure about the weather. It could be a rough passage or a smooth one. It's in the lap of the gods. The answer to your second question is Yes. I do the journey frequently. I go home on average once a year."

"To England?"

"Yes. I own a sugar plantation. I come to London periodically on marketing matters. Why are you going to Australia?"

"I'm travelling with a friend and her aunt. She is going out to get married."

"I don't think I have ever made a crossing yet when there was not at least one young lady who was going out to get married. Men get lonely away from home. Then they go home to find a bride and bring her out to share their solitude. At first I thought you must surely be going to join some lonely man."

"Well, you are quite wrong."

"I'm glad of that."

"Indeed?"

He laughed. "Oh yes, indeed I am. I could not bear to think of such a young lady grappling with all that has to be done on a property in the outback. The beautiful English skin would become ravaged by the pitiless sun. You don't know how lucky you are in your rainy home where the sun doesn't dry up the crops and kill off the stock and hurricanes don't blow away the work of years, where you don't have plagues of locusts..."

"You make it sound like the plagues of ancient Egypt."

"That's exactly what it is like."

"Then why do people stay there?"

"It is not easy to pack up and walk to the Promised Land."

"Is that why you are there?"

"I don't live in the outback of Australia. I live on Cariba. That's an island more than a hundred miles off the coast of Australia. My father was out there and from him I inherited a sugar plantation. Sugar grows well in Cariba. But one day I am going to sell the plantation and I'm coming home to acquire a manor house with a large estate... farms, the lot... and I'm going to be an English squire."

"Squires have usually been on their land for generations."

"I'll get round that," he said. "Tell me, what are you going to do when you get to Australia?"

"I am going to attend the wedding of my friend. Stay for a while and then I suppose go back with her aunt."

"I come to Sydney quite frequently. Shall we be friends?"

"How can we say? Friendship is not something which is decided at a brief meeting. It has to be nurtured. It has to grow."

"We'll nurture it then."

"That is a hasty decision," I told him. "We only boarded the ship yesterday. We saw each other for the first time in the dining room."

"When I was rather bold. You will discover, when the nurturing begins, that that is a trait of mine. Do you like it?"

"So much would depend on when it occurred."

"You and I are going to get along well. We're two of a kind, you know."

"So you find me bold?"

"Boldness lurks beneath the refined manners of the perfect lady. I can see it peeping out. For instance, what are you doing, sitting out here on deck with someone to whom you have not been formally introduced?"

"I would call it extenuating circumstances. The weather drove me to sit here and as it was the only place where a traveller could be seated, it was inevitable that you should sit here too. I don't own the ship, so can't order you to leave me."

"Logical reasoning. But I still think I was right about the boldness. Time will show whether I was right or wrong, I daresay."

"I think the wind is abating a little."

"Perhaps ... just a little."

"And I shall go in and see how my fellow travellers are faring."

"They are prostrate, are they?"

"I'm afraid so."

"It will be some time before they recover."

"Nevertheless I shall go to see them."

I stood up and almost fell, reeling against the deck rail. He was beside me, holding me, his face close to mine. He was the most disturbing man I had ever met.

"Be careful," he said, "one wild wave could carry you overboard. You should not come too near this rail. Allow me to escort you down."

He put his arm about me and held me tightly against him. We rolled rather than walked along the deck. I felt breathless and rather glad of his strong arm.

"When I left England, I thought Ah, Paradise Lost," he said. "Now I am thinking Paradise Regained. I was not called Milton for nothing."

I laughed again. It had been a stimulating encounter.

I staggered down to the cabins. Miss Cartwright looked very wan and Felicity was not much better.

She said: "This is terrible. How much of this do we have to endure? I thought I was going to die."

"It is getting better, I think."

"Thank Heaven for that."

"Where have you been?" asked Miss Cartwright.

"On deck. My cabin mate said it was the best thing to do."

"You look so rosy," said Felicity. "Almost as though you enjoyed it.

I smiled and thought: Yes, I believe I did.

After two days the weather improved. Miss Cartwright was shaken. She had suffered more than Felicity and I was sure she was wishing she had never come on such a hazardous journey. Here we were, only three days out and the whole voyage stretched before her. She was really quite perturbed at the prospect.

By this time I had become well acquainted with Milton Harrington, who seemed to appear like the genie of the lamp wherever I happened to be.

I shall not pretend that I did not enjoy being sought after, particularly by a man who was treated with such respect throughout the ship. He appeared to be a friend of the Captain and well known to other members of the crew; and I believed that special privileges were accorded to him.

When we arrived at Madeira, our first port of call, he asked if we were going ashore. I said, Yes, of course. But Miss Cartwright put in very firmly that she was not at all sure that it was right for ladies to go unaccompanied.

He regarded her gravely and said: "Indeed, Madam, how wise you are! It would be unseemly for ladies to go alone and I am going to beg you to allow me to escort them."

"Oh but Mr. Harrington, I could not allow that. Our acquaintance is so brief."

"But, Madam, you and I between us could make sure that no harm befell the young ladies."

He gave me a mischievous glance for he knew me well enough to realize how infuriated such a conversation would make me.

Miss Cartwright, however, I noticed with some amazement, was rather fascinated by him. That surprised me. I should have thought such boldness, such arrogant masculinity, would not have found favour in her spinster's heart. Quite the contrary. She thought he was what she called "A real man," and she respected him for it.

She appeared to hesitate but the prospect of such a jaunt in his company was irresistible. "Well, Mr. Harrington, if we were both there..."

"Leave it to me. I will show you the island. It is ideal as a first port of call. It is so beautiful. Always a favourite port of mine. Now I shall share my appreciation."

It was a happy day. He took charge of us and was so courtly to Miss Cartwright, always considering her comfort first, that she blossomed and I believe thought her days of prostration were worth while since they had brought her to this.

He hired one of the bullock carts and we drove round the town. We went into the market to admire the magnificent flowers for sale there; we explored the dark red, stone Cathedral; we drove past the Governor's palace, the old fortress of Sao Lourenco and on to the site of the old Franciscan monastery where beautiful gardens had been made.

Milton Harrington wanted to look at the sugar canes which grew in profusion. So we drove out of the town.

He talked knowledgeably and told us a great deal about the production of sugar and how the juice from the plants was distilled in mills and boiling houses. He made me feel that I wanted to see his island.

"The canes were brought here from Sicily, Cyprus and Crete during the fifteenth century and at that time became the main industry of the island. Nowadays it is the wine for which they are famous. Who has not heard of Madeira wine? I tell you what, Miss Cartwright, I am going to be very daring. May I?"

"Oh Mr. Harrington," replied Miss Cartwright with a little laugh, "if you insist, how could / stop you?"

"I would obey your instructions, of course. But I was going to say that I have a good friend here. He has a wine cellar. He would like to show you how his wine is made and preserved. He might even invite you to try a glass."

"Oh dear, Mr. Harrington, that sounds almost improper."

"You have your protector here, Miss Cartwright, and nothing to fear."

So we left our bullock cart outside the wine lodge and went into the cellar where we were greeted by a swarthy man in a big leather apron who talked in Portuguese at a great speed. Every now and then he would break into broken English. He was clearly pleased to see Milton Harrington.

When we had made a tour of the cellars we were invited to sit down on stools which were in the shape of barrels. These were placed at a round table and glasses of Madeira wine were brought to us.

We declared it delicious. Perhaps it was the effect of the wine but Felicity became quite talkative. She was obviously enjoying the outing. She said she was quite taken with the island and would like to spend some time here.

"Ah, but that would delay your arrival in Australia," Milton Harrington pointed out. "I am sure you are all eagerness to get there."

The moment's hesitation told me—and, I was sure, Milton Harrington—a good deal. I knew now what Felicity's secret was. She was a very frightened young woman and now that she was getting nearer to her new life she was beginning to wonder whether she had made a mistake.

"Oh yes... yes, of course," she said, too vehemently for conviction. But I could not forget the stricken look in her eyes.

"Where is the property?" asked Milton Harrington.

"It's a few miles out of Sydney."

"What is the name of it? Perhaps I know it."

"Granville's. That is the name of my fiance. The place is named after him."

"William Granville?" Milton Harrington spoke rather bleakly.

"Yes. I am going out to him."

"Do you know him?" I asked quickly.

"You might say I am on nodding acquaintance. I call in at Sydney on average about once a month. In the hotel there one meets up with graziers and people from around. I have met him."

"What a strange coincidence," cried Miss Cartwright.

"It is not really," Milton Harrington told her. "You see it is not like London. In fact the population of Australia can't come anywhere near that of London, nor Birmingham and Manchester ... or any of the big cities. It's sparsely populated. People come in from miles round and congregate in one hotel. It is not so strange that one comes across people."

"No, of course not," I said.

But I began to feel uneasy.

Miss Cartwright was persuaded to try a second glass of wine and after that she began to laugh a great deal.

We went back to the bullock cart and to the ship.

My uneasiness persisted. I was sure that Milton Harrington knew something about William Granville and that he had been somewhat reticent in the wine lodge because what he knew was unpleasant.

I determined that when I was alone with him I would ask him outright. It was better to know the worst. I was beginning to feel rather protective towards Felicity. It was that quality of helplessness in her which made me want to look after her and I felt that if there was something which was not quite what we expected we should know about it.

It was not difficult to waylay him and I did so.

I said: "I should like to speak to you ... somewhere where we can be alone."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and said: "I shall, of course, be delighted."

We found a secluded spot on the deck and sat down.

"It was not exactly what you said but the way in which you said it," I began. "I am referring to the conversation in the wine lodge when William Granville's name was mentioned. You know something about him, don't you?"

"I know a little of him."

"What do you know?"

"That he has a property not far from Sydney."

"We all know that. What do you know especially about him?"

"What do you want? Height? Colour of eyes? Hair?"

"You are being flippant. Miss Derring is going out to marry him. If there is anything wrong, I think we ought to be prepared. Please tell me."

"What would you do about anything that you considered wrong?"

"I could break it to her. We could decide ..."

"One is always wary of giving an opinion of another person. One could be quite wrong."

"Why did you say then ... ?"

"My dear Miss Annalice, I said nothing."

"No, you didn't. But you implied. You know him, but you seem to be holding something back ... something that you did not talk about."

"I don't know the man very well personally. I have only heard gossip... comment. People talk about each other in small communities and not always charitably."

"Will you stop beating about the bush and tell me frankly what these rumours are?"

"Nothing much. He is a good deal older than Miss Derring."

"She knows that. Sometimes marriages are quite successful when there is a disparity in ages. It is more than that, isn't it?"

"You are so persistent. I'll tell you that I heard he takes too much drink. People do, you know, in these lonely places."

"I see. And that was what made you act as you did?"

"I was not aware of any acting."

"It was your silence which said so much."

"I'm sorry if I caused Miss Derring anxiety."

"She didn't notice. But she does seem to be a little uncertain. I wish she would confide in me. I might be able to help."

"She knew him in England."

"Yes, when he came over looking for a wife."

"Well, she agreed to marry him. She was not forced into it."

"I feel quite anxious about her."

He put his hand over mine.

"You're very nice," he said.

I withdrew it at once.

"What else do you know about him?"

He shrugged his shoulders but he would say no more. Yet he gave me the impression that he knew something and was holding it back.

I rose and he was beside me. "Would you like to take a turn round the deck or join me in an aperitif?"

"No, thank you. I am going back to my cabin."

He had done nothing to diminish my uneasiness. Rather had he increased it.

After we left Madeira we ran into bad weather again. Felicity seemed to be much better able to cope with conditions than she had before. But Miss Cartwright was very ill. She was confined to bed for two days and after that, when the sea was calm, she was very weak and continued to be ill.

We were now in warm waters, along the west coast of Africa and it was very pleasant to sit on deck. Miss Cartwright came up and sat in a deck chair, but she looked very wan and Felicity confided in me that she was very worried about her.

"I am sure nothing would have induced her to come—not even her duty towards me—if she had known how rough seas would affect her," she said. "If we have another bout of bad weather I shall really fear for her."

She did not stay long on deck and wished to retire to her cabin. Felicity and I took her down and would have stayed with her, but she wanted to sleep if possible.

When we went back on deck Milton Harrington came and sat down beside us.

"Miss Cartwright looks very poorly," he said, and Felicity admitted that she was anxious about her. She thought she might be really ill, she said.

"We could run into bad weather round the Cape," he said. "It's called the Cape of Storms, you know."

"Oh dear," said Felicity.

"There are some who can't take the sea and Miss Cartwright is, I am afraid, one of them. And when she gets to Australia... she will have the prospect of the journey back."

"I wish she could go home," said Felicity.

"That would be easy enough."

"How?"

"She could go back from Cape Town."

"Alone!" said Felicity.

"Unless we went back with her," I added. I looked at Felicity. "We could hardly do that."

"Seeing how ill she was, made me think," said Milton Harrington. "I know Cape Town well. I have friends there."

"You seem to have friends everywhere," I commented.

"I travel a great deal. I call in at these places. One collects people."

"Like souvenirs?" I suggested.

"Well, you could call it like that. I could arrange something ..."

Felicity was staring out to sea. Was she wishing that she could go back from Cape Town?

"I'll talk to Miss Cartwright," said Milton Harrington.

"You?" I cried.

"Yes, why not? I am sure she would listen to me."

"I am sure she would think a man's opinion so much more valuable than that of someone of her own sex."

"Yes. I always thought she was a wise woman." He was looking at me and laughing. "I wish, Miss Annalice, that you shared her opinion."

"Could we be serious?"

"Indeed we can. She should go back. I have no doubt of that. I could arrange it quite easily. I could get her a passage on another ship. I might even know someone who is going back who could keep an eye on her. It is better for people in her state of health to be in their own homes."

I looked at Felicity. She nodded.

She said: "She would never agree to leave us to travel alone."

"I will tell her that I will keep an eye on you."

"You!" I cried. "She would think that most unconventional. Why we didn't even know you until we came on board."

"Friendship matures quickly when people live in close proximity. She would have to face the passage back, of course; but all the time she would be getting nearer home. You have no idea how helpful that can be."

"At home," I told him, "they only agreed that we could come because Miss Cartwright was with us. They would have thought it most improper to allow young women to go to the other side of the world alone."

"It only shows how mistaken people can be. Here are you two, taking care of Miss Cartwright. Leave it to me. The next time I see her I will gently hint at the suggestion."

He did.

The next day the weather was fine and Miss Cartwright came on deck again. Felicity sat on one side of her, I on the other. She certainly looked ill and the bright sunlight made her skin look yellow.

It was not long before Milton Harrington strolled past and came to speak to us.

"Miss Cartwright, what a pleasure to see you!" He drew up a chair. "May I join you?"

"If you wish," said Miss Cartwright well pleased.

"I was so sorry to hear that you were ill," he said. "The sea can do that to people. There are some who should never go to sea."

"And I am one of them," said Miss Cartwright. "I can tell you, Mr. Harrington, that when I have finished with this I shall never never make a sea voyage again."

"Nor should you. What a pity there is more to come, and then you will have the long journey home."

"Don't speak of it, I beg you. I dread it."

"You could, of course, cut the journey short."

"Cut it short? How?"

"By returning home from Cape Town."

I saw the gleam in her eyes; then it faded. "But, Mr. Harrington, I have to deliver my niece to her future husband. I am in charge of her and Miss Mallory."

"And you have carried out those duties with excellence. But, Miss Cartwright, if you become ill, how can you continue to do so?"

"I must overcome this weakness."

"Even a lady as dedicated and determined as yourself cannot overcome the sea."

"Well, I have to do my best."

"If you decide to return home from Cape Town, I can arrange it easily."

"What? Do you mean that?"

"I could fix a passage on a ship going home. I have friends who constantly make these trips. I could give you an introduction to one of them so that you did not make the journey alone."

"Mr. Harrington, you are so kind, but I have come out here to look after my niece."

"Her future husband will be waiting for her at Sydney. He will look after her from then on."

She was silent. She looked a little better already. There was a touch of colour in her cheeks. It was the pleasure of the prospect of soon being on English soil.

She gave a little laugh. "So good of you... but, of course, impossible."

"It would need a little arranging, certainly. But impossible, no. It could be done and without a great deal of trouble. Quite easily in fact."

"But these two..."

"They are both very capable young ladies. I would be there to make sure no harm could come to them. You could safely leave them in my hands."

I was amazed at the man's audacity. He was really urging her to go. Why? I wondered a great deal about him. His pursuit of me for one thing was intriguing. There was a certain intensity about him. He was very different from Raymond. He was the sort of man who would be capable of everything. I was realizing more and more how predictable, how reliable Raymond was.

"Oh, but Mr. Harrington ..." murmured Miss Cartwright.

"I know you are thinking of our brief friendship. But we have seen each other daily in this short time as often as one sees friends of years' standing. The span is unimportant. It is the time we have spent together. Just think about it, Miss Cartwright. The long expanse of ocean has to be traversed. True, you have to make the journey back from Cape Town, but you would be home by the time we reach Australia. And then your health would recover rapidly."

"You make it all sound so simple, Mr. Harrington."

"Well, remember that it is not impossible."

He then began to talk of other matters such as the places he had visited on his journeys. Always, he said, he wanted to return to England. One day he would settle there.

He said no more about Cape Town; but he had sown the seed.

I could see that Miss Cartwright thought of his suggestion continually, wrestling with herself. Could she come to terms with her conscience if she left us to make the journey alone? I imagined conscience had played a big part in Miss Cartwright's life. The prospect was so inviting. I knew from what she said that she sadly missed her home and garden. She found the heat almost as trying as the buffeting winds. She was not intended to travel the world.

A few days passed. Every now and then Milton Harrington—our constant companion now—would drop a little more of his honied suggestions into her ears. I was amazed at the skill he used. He never persuaded; but almost everything he said pointed to the advisability of her returning. Nothing could be done until we reached Cape Town, but he would have to know her decision by then. We were staying there for three days and we would need all of that time to make the arrangements.

I was thinking a great deal about him. He was a man who would have a motive for what he did and his pursuit of me could mean only one thing. I was not so simple as not to understand that. He had not mentioned a wife, and I did not know whether he was married. He gave an impression of virility and I gathered he was a man who would not consider it necessary to deny himself anything he desired; I was sure he must have known many women. There was an air of worldliness about him. I was very intrigued by him and wondered how far our friendship would have gone if I had responded to his advances.

He was returning to his plantation from England and he had mentioned that people went home to look for wives. Did he mean that that was what he had done? And if he had. he appeared to have failed to find one; and I could not imagine his failing in anything— least of all in the pursuit of a wife.

There was a great deal I had to learn about him.

At the moment I believed I should keep him at arm's length, which was not easy for he was constantly there. I knew that the passengers were beginning to speculate about us, and as it was known that Felicity was going out to be married, they would assume that I was the target for Milton Harringtons attentions.

I have to admit that I was rather pleased to be at the centre of such a romantic intrigue. It certainly gave a spice to the day.

As he had predicted we were in rough seas again approaching the Cape and this time Miss Cartwright made her decision. She was, she confessed, a little anxious about me. for while Felicity would be in her husband's care. I should have to make the journey back to England alone.

Milton Harrington assured her that he would arrange for my passage home when the time came and would make sure that I should travel in the company of friends of his, who would surely be returning to England. Indeed she had nothing to fear; and his assurances, combined with the weather, helped her to make up her mind.

If it could be arranged, she would go home for in her present state she could be no guardian at all—only an encumbrance.

Milton Harrington said that as soon as we docked he would set about making the arrangements.

Our stay in Cape Town was given over to the departure of Miss Cartwright. Constantly we had to reassure her that we should be perfectly safe without her.

We should be met in Sydney by William Granville. I should stay with Felicity until after the marriage; and then Mr. Harrington would help me to arrange a passage home, introduce me to the Captain of the vessel and some of his numerous friends who would surely be sailing because he knew so many people who made the journey often.

It would all work out satisfactorily in his capable hands.

And they were indeed capable. He took charge of everything. Miss Cartwright was to stay for a week in one of the best hotels. He introduced her to some of his friends who would be sailing to England. They would all be together and there was nothing to fear.

As for her charges, she could trust Mr. Harrington to do the same for them as he had done for her.

I was amazed that she was prepared to put so much trust in a man she had not known a few weeks before. I put it down to the power of his personality. Power was the word. He exuded power, and while that power was benevolent, that was very comforting. But I was wondering how one would feel if one were in conflict with it.

I felt there was so much I had to learn about this man.

Those days in Cape Town passed quickly. We had only a short time for sightseeing of perhaps the most beautiful of all the places we should visit. I shall never forget the sight of Table Mountain with what they call the tablecloth over it. There it was reaching to the sky and over the plateau frothy white clouds looking very like a tablecloth. The weather was warm, but not too hot; the flowers were colourful and the scenery majestic.

Miss Cartwright was in a state of nerves at the parting. I thought at the last minute she was going to change her mind and return to the ship. She kept talking about abandoning her duty and I knew her conscience was having a fearful battle with her dread of the sea. Conscience was defeated; and when we sailed out of Cape Town we left Miss Cartwright behind.

I had the impression that Milton Harrington was pleased that she had gone. Indeed, sometimes I thought he had skilfully manoeuvred her departure. Why?

He would have his motives. He was a man of motives. He was also occupying my thoughts far too much. I thought, He is a little brash; he is rather arrogant; he is certainly bold.

Felicity was impressed by him. I noticed that she was a little nervous in his presence. He had an effect on her too.

Now that Miss Cartwright had left, it seemed reasonable that I should move in with Felicity and leave my Australian companion with the cabin to herself.

This I did, and sharing a cabin brought us into closer contact. Consequently, our relationship changed a little.

We used to lie in our bunks, she above, me below, and talk until we fell asleep. I found that a certain drowsiness and the gentle rocking of the ship was more prone to bring out confidences than sitting on deck in the sunlight.

At length Felicity spoke of her fears.

"I wish this voyage would go on and on," she said.

"Oh, you are enjoying it then?"

"Yes... once I got used to the sea. The first part was dreadful. I just wanted to die."

"Like poor Miss Cartwright."

"I was so amazed that she went. I never thought she would. She's always been so strict about watching over me."

"I think Milton Harrington persuaded her."

"She was very taken with him. Annalice, what do you think of him?"

"Oh, I don't make hasty judgements."

"But you must have some idea."

"Well, I find him interesting... stimulating in a way. The sort of person it is quite amusing to meet... briefly ... on a ship. We reach Sydney ... we say goodbye to him ... and in a few months' time we shall be saying, 'What was the name of that man we met on the ship ...?'"

"You can't really believe that. Why, he has promised my aunt that he will make sure you have a safe passage home."

"Well, perhaps not a few months ... a few years, say."

"I don't think I shall ever forget him. It was the way he got rid of my aunt."

"Got rid of her?"

"Oh yes... He wanted her to go, didn't he?"

"Why should he?"

"Chaperones can be rather restricting."

I laughed. "Since she spent most of her time prone in her cabin she could hardly have been restricting."

"Her very presence was restricting. Now we are two young females all alone."

"Felicity, you're not scared?"

She was silent for a moment, and I went on: "You are, aren't you? Why don't you tell me?"

"I should have liked to go back with my aunt."

"Felicity! But you are going to the man you love." She was silent again and I went on: "I guessed you were worried. Wouldn't you like to talk about it?"

"It all happened so quickly."

"You were, as they say, swept off your feet."

"Well, I think I wanted something to happen ... because ..."

"Because what?"

"Oh nothing... William was there. I met him when we went to tea at a neighbour's. He talked to me and was clearly interested. Then I saw him quite a lot after that and he asked me to marry him. It seemed the best thing..."

"And now you are wondering."

"I'm thinking that I don't know him very well. And I'm all those miles from home. It's like going to strangers."

I was silent, trying to find the right words to comfort her. I was thinking of what Milton Harrington had said about his drinking habits. Poor Felicity! She was too weak, too helpless to cope with this situation into which she had thrust herself.

"It's my own fault," she said. "That doesn't help. It makes it worse really if it is something that you could have avoided. It serves you right..."

"No," I agreed, "it doesn't help. But you are imagining the worst. You'll probably find when you get there that you will like it very much. He must have fallen in love with you, otherwise he wouldn't have asked you to marry him ... and you must have liked him.''

"I don't think it was quite like that. He came to look for a wife. Quite a lot of people would have been suitable. He just happened to meet me."

"That's life. It is a matter of being in a certain place at a certain time. That is how we meet our fate."

"You don't understand. I was flattered to be taken notice of. I was pleased because someone wanted to marry me. I see now how stupid I was. You see, there was someone else. I love him, you see. I always have."

"And he?"

"He's in love with someone ... not me."

"Oh, Felicity, I'm so sorry."

"My aunt thought I should marry him. They all thought I should, but when he fell in love with this other one, that was the end. Ever since I was fourteen I thought... Well, we were friends, our families I mean, great friends. We saw each other often ... and when he was in love with someone else ... and it was so obvious ... I just felt lost and lonely and terribly hurt and when William said, 'Will you marry me and come back to Australia with me,' I thought it was a good way out ... till I realized what it meant."

"I understand so much now, Felicity," I said. "I knew something was troubling you."

"And soon I shall be there ... all alone."

"You'll have your husband."

"That ... is what I am afraid of."

I tried to comfort her. "I think a lot of brides feel like this on the eve of their weddings."

"Do you?"

"I'm sure of it."

"I'm glad you came with me, Annalice."

"You know why I wanted to come."

"Yes, because of your brother."

We were silent for a while.

Then I said: "Felicity, are you asleep?"

"No."

"It will be all right," I told her.

She did not answer.

There were hot days while we crossed the Indian Ocean and our constant companion was Milton Harrington.

"Don't forget I have promised Miss Cartwright to keep a wary eye on you," he said. "She will almost be home by now, poor lady. I am glad I was able to alleviate her sufferings."

"You were most assiduous in your care for her," I told him.

"I am a very humane man."

"You are certainly not a modest one."

"I deplore modesty. It is almost always false, you know. I prefer to come out into the open. If I had a poor opinion of myself I should expect others to have the same."

"Because in your case you think you must always be right. Therefore if you were modest—which it is almost impossible to conceive—there would have to be a reason for it. And as that is equally impossible, you could never be modest."

"It seems a little involved but I imagine your reasoning is correct, Miss Annalice. When we reach Sydney, which we shall do very shortly, I shall want you to come to Cariba to visit me."

"Oh, but I am going to stay with Felicity for a while."

"You know I promised the estimable Miss Cartwright to look after you. I am to book your passage home and to see that you are accompanied by suitable companions."

"There was no mention of a trip to Cariba."

"I want to show you the plantation. Why are you so remote? An ice queen, that is what you are. I believe I have the means of melting the ice, and as queens are women, stripped of their regality they are quite human really."

"I am surprised I seem icy to you. I thought I was being rather friendly."

"You did express gratitude for what I did for Miss Cartwright certainly. Sometimes when I catch you on the deck or elsewhere I fancy I see a little gleam of warmth in your eyes ... as though they are glad to see me."

"I find you entertaining."

"Indeed? Shall I tell you what I find you?"

"I am sure you are going to, whether I give my permission or not."

"Right again. I find you enchanting."

I was silent and he leaned towards me and taking my hand, kissed it.

"I want you to come to Cariba and stay awhile," he said. "I am not going to lose you. I am determined in that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am obsessed by you. I am delighted by everything about you. The way you look, the way you talk... even your cool manner towards me... everything enchants me. This is the most delightful and exciting voyage I have ever made—and I have made many. And why? The answer is clear. It is due to Miss Annalice Mallory."

"I think I should tell you that I am contemplating marriage with someone in England."

"Then the contemplation must cease."

I couldn't help laughing. "You are the most arrogant man."

"It is what you admire so much."

"Who said I admire you?"

"You do. In a hundred ways. Words are not always necessary. You and I... together ... That is how it should be. I'll take you out to the plantation. Well have a wonderful time together. Never mind this man in England. How can he love you? If he did, he would never allow you to take a trip to the other side of the world without him. Where is he? / would not let you out of my sight."

"You are very vehement, Mr. Harrington. I expect you have a wife at home on your island and this is a prelude to some planned seduction."

"I have no wife ... as yet. But I intend to remedy that."

"Is this a proposal of marriage?"

"You don't imagine I would suggest anything else to a lady of your breeding and character?"

"You are absurd."

"It is maddening on this ship. There are people everywhere. I want to be alone with you. There is nowhere to go. I want to show you what it is like to be really loved."

"I have already told you that I know very well what it is like to be loved. I have been surrounded by loved ones all my life. And now I have already told you that I have an understanding with someone at home who is very dear to me. When I go back I am going to be married."

"I don't believe it," he said.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Your belief or disbelief does not alter the facts."

"I shall not let you go, you know. I am not the man to meet the one person in the world I want to marry and then let her slip away from me."

"You are a very forceful man who is in the habit of getting his own way. I don't doubt that. But this is one occasion when you will not. In view of what you have just said, I think it would be better if you and I saw less of each other."

He laughed. "You are the perfect English Miss at times. I love it. But it is not you really."

He turned to me suddenly and took me into his arms and kissed me violently on the lips. I had never been so kissed before. I tried to push him away and was immediately aware of his immense strength. I was breathless, angry and yet excited.

At length he released me.

"There," he said. "I wish we could be somewhere alone."

"Can you not understand that there are some people in this world who are determined to resist what you think of as your irresistible charms?"

"It strains my understanding too far," he said.

And I found myself laughing with him. I should be angry, I knew, so I tried to simulate anger.

If I were honest I would admit that I was enjoying this. I could not help being flattered that he had singled me out for this attention. Instinct told me he would have had numerous love affairs and I could not—or should not—deceive myself into thinking that he found me different from his conquests. What he was implying now was no doubt a well-tried method.

But although I did not believe in his sincerity, I was attracted in a way in which I had never been to anyone else before. It was purely physical, something I had never felt for Raymond. Though I was perfectly aware that Raymond was the better man.

I said: "I hope you will not repeat this conduct."

"You cannot know me very well if you hope that—but of course you don't hope that. Perhaps you really hope that I will."

"Mr. Harrington, I must ask you to stop this nonsense."

"You sound so formal."

"I want to be formal."

"I admit it has its charms. When you finally admit to your true feelings I shall hear you say, 'I love you, Mr. Harrington. 1 "

"That is something you will never hear."

"Never is a word it is not wise to use. Often people have to retract. As you will."

"You must be very optimistic to think that."

"You are very sharp with me. But that is what I love."

"You have strange tastes."

"I have the best taste in the world. I have chosen the queen of women, the ice maiden whom I shall melt, to discover beneath the ice the perfect passionate woman—the only one in the world who is worthy to be my mate."

I was laughing again.

"You do find me amusing," he said. "At least that is a start."

"If you were not I should find your conduct most distasteful."

"You don't, my love. You find it very much to your taste."

I saw Felicity coming along the deck towards us.

He said: "The magic moments are over. Never mind. There will be more."

Everything had changed. I could not help thinking about him. He was outrageous, of course. A wise woman would not believe a word of what he said. This was what is called a shipboard romance.

It meant nothing. Did he expect that I was the sort of person who would indulge in a passionate love affair of a few weeks and then say goodbye when we came into port?

But he had talked of marriage. And I could not stop myself contemplating marrying him and going out to his plantation. We should return to England once a year. We should visit Sydney regularly. But it was not that which was important. I thought of him... the big man with the overpowering presence; his way of talking; the manner in which he had bewitched Miss Cartwright. There was no other word for it. She had meekly allowed herself to be sent home and had left her niece in the care of a strange man ... him.

Nothing but a spell could have done that. Yet he had done it.

And now sometimes I felt he had laid a spell on me. I used to lie in my bunk and pretend to be asleep so that Felicity would not intrude on my dreams... and they were mostly about him. It was the manner in which he had kissed me and held me to him; it had made me wonder what it would be like to make love with such a man.

I tried to think of Raymond—so calm, so gentle, so chaste. There was nothing chaste about this man. He was the complete opposite of Raymond. I was being disloyal to Raymond by thinking of Milton Harrington. But I could not help it. Continually he intruded into my thoughts.

Soon we should be in Sydney. Should I say goodbye to him then forever? This interlude on the ship would be nothing but a brief incident. It was only because we were on a ship and real life seemed remote that it could have happened. Normality seemed far away. That was it. He had a strong personality; he had an air of authority; and from the first he had singled me out for his attention, which had flattered me, for after all, I was only human. I liked attention, to think that I was attractive. It was all very understandable. So... I must stop thinking of him and remember the purpose of my journey which Raymond had so kindly helped me to arrange.

Raymond! I must keep Raymond in mind. I must do what I had come out to do. Leave no stone unturned to discover what had happened to Philip; and when I had the answer I would return to Raymond.

We were fast approaching the end of our voyage. Within two days we should be in Sydney.

Felicity was now in a state of extreme nervousness.

She said: "Promise me you'll stay with me for a little while."

I wanted to remind her that the purpose of my journey was to find out what had happened to my brother; but in a weak moment, feeling sorry for her, I promised I would stay awhile.

I did remind her that while I was in Sydney I intended to contact the botanist in whose expedition Philip had gone out—if that were possible. He might be able to throw some light on Philip's activities and if the trail led somewhere I must follow it. But at least I would stay for a while.' I would go out with her, after her marriage, to her new home... perhaps for a week or so. She seemed content with that.

The days now seemed long. Everyone was impatient to get ashore. There was the bustle of preparation on board with its air of expectancy.

I was alone with Milton Harrington the night before the last. It was a warm velvety evening with no wind and the stars, among which I could see the Southern Cross, standing out clearly against the darkness of the midnight blue sky.

"A very short time now," he said.

"Everyone is longing to get ashore."

"Not I," he said. "I should like to sail on with you forever."

"That is a very romantic sentiment and hardly credible."

"You make me feel romantic."

"I should have thought nothing could have done that."

"You think I am too earthy for romance?"

"Perhaps."

"There is so much you have to learn about me."

"There is so much to learn about everybody."

"And sometimes the lessons can be boring. It would be different with us."

"Are you ready to leave? Packed and so on?"

"I am not ready to leave you."

"The sky is so beautiful. The stars look very near."

"We have wonderful skies in Cariba. You will enjoy them. In fact, you will enjoy a great deal about Cariba."

"You must be longing to get back to your paradise."

"No paradise on earth is perfect. Something is always needed to make it so. I have found that someone..."

"And has she agreed to go with you?"

"Not in so many words. But I read her thoughts."

"You are clairvoyant then? Another of your accomplishments?"

He took my hand. "She really does want to be with me as much as I want to be with her ... or almost. She is rather prim at times. Her upbringing. You know these old English families. But she doesn't deceive me."

"But perhaps you deceive yourself. Unless of course you are talking of someone whom I don't know."

"You know of whom I speak. There could only be one."

"I am surprised that you consider her worthy of you."

"I never thought I should find one who was."

"But you don't accept the impossible."

"No never. How well you have summed me up!"

"Do let us be sensible."

"I'm never anything else."

"This senseless pursuit of me ... The voyage is nearly over. It was to be an amusing interlude, wasn't it? To pass the monotonous days at sea? Well, it is nearly over. You did not succeed in seducing me. which I believe was your motive. Admit it."

"I won't deny it."

"You are shameless."

'The seduction was to have been a prelude to a lifelong love affair."

'"Your conversation is as extravagant as your ideas."

"Shall we be serious for a while?"

"I should prefer that."

"Then I will speak with the utmost seriousness. I cannot say goodbye to you in Sydney. I want you to come and visit my island. Cariba is a beautiful place. You have no doubt pictured it as a desert island with palm trees, sandy beaches and natives in canoes. It is all of that but also a flourishing community. We have made it that with the exportation of sugar. We have utilized the natural resources of the island. It is not small —quite large in fact, as such islands go. It is the largest in a group of four. We have our docks and a reasonably good hotel. Sugar has made the island rich and the people there are sensible enough to know it. I want you to come and visit us."

I hesitated.

"I have a large house on the plantation. I should like you to stay there. But if that would not be agreeable to you. there is. as I said, a reasonably good hotel. Promise me you will come."

"I can't make any promises."

"What a stubborn woman you are."

"You see how undesirable I really am."

"No. I even love your stubbornness. I am so besottedly in love with you that I think everything about you is perfect."

"I have promised to stay with Felicity for a while."

He nodded. "You won't want to stay long. I imagine. Do you know, you haven't told me very much about yourself... about your family. All I know is that you are travelling out with Miss Felicity to keep her company on the voyage."

"Nor have you told me of yourself."

"I will tell you when you come to Cariba. I do know that you live with your grandmother and I presume your parents are dead."

"My mother is. My father married again and settled in Holland."

"I want to know all about you. I always think of you as Annalice. My .Annalice ... the unusual girl with the unusual name. Annalice

Mallory. There is a well-known firm of map makers with the name of Mallory."

"That is my family:'

"Well then, you must be..."

"Yes?"

"A young man from that family came out to Cariba... I've just remembered... It must have been about two years ago. Now what was his name... ? I am almost sure it was Mallory and he was connected with maps."

My heart was beating very fast. I could scarcely speak. "Philip... Was it Philip?"

"Philip Mallory... Yes, I believe it was."

"And he went to Cariba?"

"Yes... he was there some time, I think."

My throat was dry. I was at a loss for words. To think that he had seen Philip more recently than I had; and all this time when we had been indulging in frivolous conversation he might have given me this vital information.

"What happened to him?" I asked.

"I don't know. He was just there ... and then he must have gone."

"He was my brother," I said.

"Your brother. Of course. Mallory ... I had forgotten all about him until this moment."

"Please tell me all you know about him."

"You surely know more than I do."

"What happened to him? He never came home. What did he do? What was he doing on the island?"

"Wait a minute. It's coming back ... I believe he had a map and was trying to find a certain place which no one seemed to know anything about. I only remember vaguely. I was not much interested in him. We get so many people on the island with plans for this and that."

"Please try to remember everything you can about him. It's very important to me."

"I only met him on one occasion. It was in the hotel. He was staying there, I suppose. I didn't see him again. That's all I know."

"So he was at Cariba!"

"Yes, he was definitely there."

I was stunned. Here was a clue, though a flimsy one. And to think that Milton Harrington, with whom I had been in close contact over the last weeks, should have been able to tell me this and I had not discovered it until now, was astounding.

So Philip had stayed in the hotel on Cariba. There might be hotel staff who remembered him, who could perhaps tell me something.

I felt a great excitement. I had not yet arrived at Sydney and already I had made this discovery.

"You will come to Cariba," said Milton Harrington. "Yes." I said firmly, "I shall come to Cariba."

I was leaning over the rail with many others as we came into the harbour. What a magnificent sight it was! I could well believe it was what its first governor had declared it to be: "the finest harbour in the world." On one side of me was Felicity, on the other Milton Harrington. He had taken my arm and held it against his side. I wanted to protest but I felt I could not call attention to ourselves with so many people looking on. I was sure he was aware of this and that it amused him.

Felicity was looking nervous, and I myself was not thinking so much of the coves and beaches and the luxuriant foliage as of Philip's arrival here with the botanical party; and I was wondering what the next weeks were going to reveal to me.

I had already decided that there must be people in the Cariba hotel who would remember him. I must meet them and talk to them. As soon as Felicity was married and I had honoured my promise to stay with her for a week or so, I would go to Cariba.

I understood that a ship left for the island every Wednesday and when I arrived I could be sure of being welcomed by Milton Harrington. Certainly I should not accept the offer to stay in his house, but there was the hotel; and it was the hotel in which I was interested because Philip had stayed there.

We were coming into dock now. Very soon we should land.

"What a sight!" whispered Milton. "Are you impressed?"

"Who could fail to be?"

"Wait until you see Cariba. I shall be looking out for you."

"There is a hotel, you tell me."

"You will be more comfortable in Harrington Hall. Do you like the sound of that?"

" Apt alliteration's artful aid,'" I quoted.

"Indeed yes. And does it not sound like an old English country mansion? When we finally go home and choose our estate, let's name it that."

A group of people had gathered on the dockside. They were clearly waiting for arrivals.

I looked at Felicity. "Is your William there?"

Anxiously she was peering at the crowd.

She said: "It's too far away yet. I can't see."

"He'll be there I expect."

She shivered.

People were now returning to their cabins, ready to collect their hand luggage and leave.

"We had better go," I said.

Milton Harrington released my arm and we all left the deck.

A man was coming towards us, his hat in his hand, a smile on his face.

Felicity said in a small voice: "It's William."

"Felicity at last!" He embraced her. "I thought you'd never get here."

Felicity said: "William, this is Miss Annalice Mallory."

He gripped my hand so hard that it hurt. "I've heard all about you. Welcome to Sydney."

There were pouches under his faintly bloodshot eyes. He looked at me as though he were assessing me for a purpose which made me feel slightly uncomfortable. He was rather fleshy but of a fair height; he looked to me like a man who might be given to self-indulgence.

Felicity explained: "Aunt Emily left at Cape Town. She became so ill, she had to go home."

"Poor old lady!"

"And this is Mr. Milton Harrington who has been so kind and helpful to us."

"We've met before," said Milton.

"Of course. In the hotel... among the graziers. From the islands, aren't you? Sugar?"

"That's right. I've been to England on business and had the pleasure of meeting the ladies on board ship. I suppose you'll be leaving Sydney soon for the property?"

"We shall be here for a short time. We'll get married here. It's simpler. I've booked us into the Crown. I thought that was most suitable."

"Yes, indeed."

"What about our baggage?" asked Felicity.

"I expect you have trunks?"

"Naturally there was a great deal to bring with me."

"Naturally. Don't worry. I'll arrange for it to be sent direct to the property when it is unloaded. You'll manage with what you have with you while we're in Sydney, and when you get to your new home you'll find it all waiting for you." He turned to Milton. "I suppose you will have to wait until Wednesday. It is Wednesday, isn't it, for the Cariba boat?"

"That's so. But I might stay a little longer in Sydney." He smiled at me. "I have things to do."

"We'll take a buggy to the hotel," said William Granville. "It's not very far."

I was too excited to take much notice of the city then. I felt very unsettled. I could not imagine what could have possessed Felicity to accept this gross man. It was clear to me that she was not in love with him—far from it. But it was her decision and no concern of mine. She had agreed to it so presumably it was what she wanted. I was thinking that I should soon have to say goodbye to Milton Harrington and I was not quite sure how I should feel about that. I should miss not having to avoid him, not indulging in those verbal battles—which I believe were quite a pleasure to us both. It was all going to be rather strange.

But I would come back to Sydney and get on that Wednesday boat out to Cariba, and I expected that while I was there, making enquiries about Philip. I should see something of Milton Harrington. I might as well admit that I should look forward to that.

But I could not curb my anxiety concerning Felicity. She was on the verge of marriage with a man for whom she did not care; and now I had seen him I could understand why. What on earth had possessed her to agree to marry him? Why did she feel that just because she had been jilted by this other man, she had to take the very next one who came along? Was she afraid of growing into a spinster and becoming like Miss Cartwright? It was madness and I had a very strong notion that she was regretting it now. But even at this hour it was not too late. She was not married yet.

We went through narrow winding streets into a busy thoroughfare and in due course arrived at the hotel. It was spacious with red velvet curtains and rich red carpets and a great deal of brass.

I noticed that Milton Harrington was treated with great respect by the staff of the hotel who seemed to know him well. He whispered to me: "I'm a good customer. I always stay here when I am in Sydney." He went on in a louder tone: "Shall we all meet before dinner for an aperitif?"

William Granville said that would be an excellent idea.

So it was arranged and we were taken to our rooms. Mine and Felicity's were next door to each other.

I looked round mine. The furniture was large, the ceiling was high and there was a window which looked out on the street. The furnishings were similar to those in the reception hall—heavy red velvet curtains caught back by thick bands of brass. There was an air of cleanliness about the place which was pleasant.

I felt a little bewildered. Here I was, miles from home, bent on carrying out a rather vague mission and very much aware of moving towards a climax for which I had not bargained. First there was Felicity. Her wedding was imminent, and I could not help feeling alarmed at the prospect of what was going to happen to her. I had taken an instant dislike to her bridegroom. There was much about him that I did not trust. He looked... what was the word... ? Debauched? No, that was a little too strong, but somewhere near it. I thought his glance at me had been offensively bold ... but only slighdy. He had been pleasant enough outwardly. He had seemed to be delighted to greet Felicity. Was I seeing him clearly? How unwise it was to judge people on one meeting! So there was Felicity to stir up my apprehension; and of course, Milton Harrington. I was annoyed because that man kept coming into my thoughts. He was a born intruder, always where he was not wanted. Or was he wanted? Why did I feel faintly depressed because soon he would be taking that Wednesday boat?

I must forget these side issues and remember my mission. I was here to find out what had happened to Philip; and when I had the answer I would go home and marry Raymond and live in peace.

I unpacked my small case, washed and changed, and when I had done that, Felicity was knocking on my door.

"Oh ... are you ready?"

"Yes, come in. How is your room?"

"Just like this one."

"It seems very comfortable."

This was small talk because we were afraid of saying what was on our minds.

"William seemed very pleased to see you here," I said, banally.

"Yes," she answered.

"You're going to find it all very exciting."

She nodded unconvincingly.

I put my arm round her and kissed her. She clung to me for a moment.

"You're coming out to the property with us, aren't you?"

"If you want me to... for a little while. But I dare say William won't want an intruder on his honeymoon."

"You promised to come."

"I know and I will... for a week or so. You'll be settled in by then."

That seemed to comfort her.

There was a knock on the door. It was a maid who said she had come to take us down to the gentlemen.

I awoke next morning to brilliant sunshine streaming into my room.

I lay still for a few moments reminding myself that I was in Sydney and my quest had begun. This morning I would see if 1 could find David Gutheridge. I remembered that there had been talk of an Australian Botanical Association. David would certainly have been in communication with them. Who knew, I might have the astounding good luck to find him there now.

In any case it would be a start.

My thoughts drifted back to the evening. We had had our aperitif and then dined off great steaks which seemed to have been enjoyed by the men: both Felicity and I found them far too much.

"We have big appetites in Australia," said William Granville. "It is due to being so much out of doors."

I noticed he drank with relish and as he did so there was a change in him. He took Felicity's hand, patting it and placing it on his thigh. Felicity looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Milton Harrington took charge of the conversation and talked about Australia at great length and I learned that William Granville had been here for twenty years. I gathered that he was about thirty-eight although he looked much older.

"The first thing you ladies must do tomorrow," said Milton, "is to buy big shady hats. That is so, is it not, Granville? We can't have them ruining their delicate skins. I tell you, this Australian sun will wreak havoc with your complexions."

"We'll go shopping tomorrow, Annalice." said Felicity.

I found the evening embarrassing and Milton Harrington knew that I did. I was very glad to get to my room. I thought Felicity might come in after we retired but she did not. I was glad. I wanted to comfort her, of course, but there was really nothing 1 could do except advise her to go back to England with me.

But how could 1? The decision was hers.

However, here I was in Sydney where I had dreamed of being. I chided myself for almost forgetting the reason why I was here because I was getting myself involved in side issues.

When I was dressed. I knocked at Felicity's door.

She was still in bed. "I've got a headache." she said. "I'll stay in bed a little while. I think."

"You could have something sent up. I'll go down and see about it."

She looked at me appealingly and I thought she was going to say something about changing her mind. I did not prompt her. I believed I must leave her to confide when she wished to.

I went downstairs and asked them to send some coffee and bread and butter up to her, and I sat down and had the same myself. The waiter seemed disappointed that I did not order steaks—which quite a number of people were eating.

When I had finished I asked at the desk if they could give me the address of the Australian Botanical Association and was told without hesitation that it was in George Street.

How could I get there? I asked. Did I need a conveyance? No, I was told, it was only about ten minutes' walk from the hotel.

I was given instructions how to get there. 1 went back to my room hoping that I would not meet either William Granville or Milton Harrington on the way. I did not want to explain my intentions; and now that I was on the trail I was all eagerness to begin.

The morning air was invigorating. It would be hot later I did not doubt. 1 thought about Milton's advice to get big hats to protect us. Our town ones would certainly be inadequate.

Later, I thought. First David Gutheridge.

I found the Botanical Association with the utmost ease. There was a brass plate on the door. I went in. A man at a desk looked at me brightly.

"Good morning," I said. "I wonder if you could help me. I want to get into touch with Mr. David Gutheridge."

He looked puzzled. "1 don't think we have anyone here of that name."

"No, you wouldn't have. He came out from England almost two years ago. He is a botanist and I think he must have been in touch with this office at some time. 1 wonder if you could give me an idea of where 1 might find him."

"In connection with an expedition which came out from England some two years ago, you say. If you wait a moment, I will see if there is anyone who can help you. Do sit down."

I sat down and waited, feeling rather sick with excitement, wondering if I were on the verge of discovery.

After a while the young man came back.

"Will you come this way?"

I rose and followed him. He paused before a glass door, opened it and stood aside for me to enter.

A man rose from a desk.

"Good morning."

We shook hands.

"I understand you are enquiring about Mr. David Gutheridge."

"Yes. 1 know that he came out here on an expedition some time ago."

"It is about two years."

"Yes, that's so. I thought this might be his headquarters and I was wondering if you could give me his address."

"He does have his mail sent here, but at the moment he is not in Sydney."

"You know where he is?" I asked excitedly.

"We never know where people are when they are on these expeditions. They plan to go to some place and get side-tracked and decide to go off in another direction. I know that he was going to Queensland at one time and from there to the Barrier Reef. Some of those islands have flora that you find nowhere else."

"Oh." I was disappointed.

"He has been gone some six months," he said. "We did hear recently that he was on the mainland ... so it may well be that he will be here before long."

"What do you mean by before long? A week... two weeks... ?"

"Oh I should hardly think so. I imagine a month at the earliest."

"A month!" I felt deflated. But at least they knew him. It was a little step forward.

"When he does come will you tell him that I called. And will you ask him to get into touch with me. I may be at this property ... If not I will give you a change of address. The property is some miles out of Sydney and I shall be staying there with friends."

"Certainly I will."

"My name is Miss Mallory."

"Oh... any relation to the map people?"

"It is my family."

"We had a Mallory out here from England... Yes ... he came, of course, with David Gutheridge."

"That was my brother. It is he with whom I am trying to get into touch. Do you know whether he stayed in Sydney or when he left?"

"I'm afraid I don't. He did come in here once or twice with Mr. Gutheridge. And then we didn't see him any more."

"Thank you," I said. "You have been very kind."

"I'll make sure Mr. Gutheridge knows you called... just as soon as he gets back. And that's the address. Goodo. I'll make a note of it. Don't worry. As soon as he comes in he'll get the message."

I came out into the sunshine.

A start. Not a very propitious one. But a start.

When I returned to the hotel the first person I met was Milton Harrington.

"You've been out," he cried. "You've stolen a march on us."

"It is pleasant in the early morning. It will be hot later."

He looked at me intently. "You've got something on your mind," he said.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Tell me. Perhaps I can help."

I shook my head. "It's nothing. Where are the others?"

"The bridegroom, I imagine, is sleeping a little late. The bride-to-be likewise. That leaves us free. I suggest a little ride round the city. I'm rather proud of it. It's come a long way since the first fleet came out here, I can tell you. Come on. We'll take a buggy."

I allowed myself to be hustled into one. I was still thinking of David Gutheridge who might provide the key to the mystery.

It was a happy morning. Milton showed me the harbour as we drove in and out of the coves; he took me through narrow winding streets which had once been tracks, and he told me something of the city's history, and I was wondering how those people who had arrived here with the first fleet had felt when they stepped ashore on the land which was to be their home for the rest of their lives.

I forgot my disappointment at not finding David Gutheridge. He would return and perhaps have something to tell me. I realized that when I was in the company of Milton Harrington I became an optimist. I caught his belief that everything was possible; something of his ebullient nature was passed on to me.

We stopped at a store and bought a sun hat for me, and I chose one for Felicity in a shade of pale lavender which I thought would suit her.

"Now," said Milton, "I can quieten my fears. The beautiful complexion is safe from the enemy."

"It seems an odd way of describing the sun—the life-giver to us all on this planet."

"Ah. A good friend but a bad enemy. That is the nature of life. The sea. Fire. Great friends and at times implacable enemies."

"It doesn't say much for friendship if it can turn like that."

"Why is it, Miss Annalice Mallory, that whenever I am with you you turn the lightest discourse into a psychological discussion?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I suppose I can be rather pedantic."

"You can never be anything but fascinating. How soon shall I see you in Cariba?"

"I don't know. I shall not stay long on this Granville property."

"No. I am sure you will not want to do that."

"I am a little uneasy about Felicity. If you know anything against this man I think she ought to know."

He was silent for a moment as though grappling with himself, which was unusual for him. He was usually so sure.

"She sees him for herself," he said at length.

"He drank quite a lot last night, but he was sober."

"He is accustomed to it and he can, as they say, take his drink. What effect it has, I don't know. I doubt that he stopped drinking when we left him. He would continue in the privacy of his own bedroom, I imagine."

"Don't you think Felicity should be told?"

"It is always difficult in such circumstances to know whether one should tell or not. I think Felicity is able to see for herself. It may be that she is in love with the fellow. Love is blind. We all have to work out our own lives, you know."

"When they are married it will be too late. I can't help feeling she is making a mess of her life."

"My dear Annalice, that is for her to decide."

"You don't think ..."

"I think you should stop worrying. Let her make her own decisions. Everyone has a right to do that. Go with her and see her settled in. Think a little more about yourself... about us. And as soon as possible come to Cariba. Every Wednesday the boat sails. I shall be watching ... and waiting ..."

I laughed at him. But oddly enough those words gave me comfort.