The Secret Woman

10

When Chantel came to see me that day I was aware of how excited she was as soon as I heard the iron gate click and, looking from a top window, saw her coming across the lawn. She looked almost breathtakingly beautiful. She was so dainty and with her cape flying out about her, her feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground, she was like an illustration from The Golden Fairy Book from which my mother used to read to me.

I ran down to the door. I did not have to wend my way now that so much of the furniture had gone. We embraced. She was laughing excitedly.

“News, news!” she cried. She came into the hall and looked round it. “Why, it’s changed. It looks like a hall.”

“It’s more how it was meant to look,” I said.

“Thank goodness some of those wicked old clocks have gone. Tick tock, tick tock. I wonder they didn’t get on your nerves.”

“They’ve gone alas, for what is called ‘a song’.”

“Never mind. They’ve gone. Now listen, Anna. Something has happened.”

“I can see that.”

“What I want you to do is to read my journal and then you’ll get the picture. While you do that I’m going into the town to shop.”

“But you’ve only just come.”

“Listen. Until you’ve read that you won’t see the picture clearly. Do be sensible, Anna. I’ll be back in an hour. Not longer. So get down and read now.”

She was off again, leaving me standing there in the depleted hall, the book in my hand.

So I sat down and read; and when I came to the rather abrupt ending of her account with her in Lady Crediton’s presence making her suggestion, I knew what this implied.

I found myself staring at the few pieces that were left, and I thought irrelevantly that no one would ever buy the truly exquisite jewel cabinet, with its pewter and ivory on an ebony ground and its carved figures representing spring, summer, autumn, and winter. Who wanted such a jewel cabinet now, however beautiful? What had possessed Aunt Charlotte to spend a large sum of money to acquire something for which there were very few buyers in the world? And upstairs was the Chinese collection. Still, in the last weeks I had begun to see the daylight of solvency. I would be able to pay the debts I had inherited. It seemed that I might have a clear start.

A clear start. That was exactly what Chantel was offering me.

I could scarcely wait for her return. I asked Ellen to make a pot of tea before she left. She was not working every day now. Mr. Orfey had put his foot down. His business was improving and he wanted his wife at home to help him. It was only as a special favor that she came at all.

Ellen said she would make the tea and added that her sister often spoke very highly of Nurse Loman.

“Of course they think highly of her.”

“Edith says she’s not only a good nurse but sensible, and even her ladyship has no cause for complaint.”

I was pleased; and all the time I was thinking of leaving England, of saying goodbye to the strange solitude of the Queen’s House. Often people talked of leading a new life. It was a recognized cliché. But this would truly be a new life, a complete breakaway. Chantel was the only link with all that had happened.

But I was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps I had read Chantel’s implications incorrectly. Perhaps I was indulging in a wild dream as I had on at least one other occasion.

Ellen set the tea on a lacquered tray; she had used the Spode set. There was that delicate Georgian silver tea strainer. Oh well, it couldn’t make much difference now and this was after all a special occasion.

Ellen hung about for another glimpse of Chantel and when she had gone and we were alone in the house, Chantel began to talk.

“As soon as I heard there was a possibility of my being asked to go I thought of you, Anna. And I hated the thought of leaving you in this lonely Queen’s House with your future all unsettled. I thought I can’t do it. And then it all turned out so fortuitously … like the benign hand of fate. Poor old Beddoes being sent off like that. Of course she was quite incompetent and it would have happened sooner or later. Well then this magnificent idea came to me and I presented it to her ladyship.”

“In your journal you don’t say what she said.”

“That’s because I have a true sense of the dramatic. Don’t you realize that as you read? Now if I told you, the impact would have been lost. This was far too important. I wanted to bring the news to you myself.”

“Well, what did she say?”

“My dear, two-feet-on-the-ground-Anna, she did not dismiss it.”

“It doesn’t sound as though she were very eager to employ me.”

“Eager to employ? Lady Crediton is never eager to employ. It is for those whom she employs to be that. She is aloof from us all. She is a being from another sphere. She only feels convenience and inconvenience and she expects those about her to see that she is in a perpetual state of the former.”

She laughed, and I felt it was good to be with her again.

“Well, tell me what happened.”

“Now where did I leave off? I had implied that I would agree to travel with Mrs. Stretton if my friend could come as nurse or governess or whatever it was to the boy. And I saw at once that she thought this a convenient solution. I had so taken her off her guard by my presumption that she had not the time to compose her features into their usual mold of stern aloofness. She was pleased. It gave me the advantage.

“I said, ‘The friend to whom I refer is Miss Anna Brett.’

“‘Brett’, she said. ‘The name is familiar.’

“‘I daresay,’ I replied. ‘Miss Brett is the owner of the antique business.’

“‘Wasn’t there something unsavory happened there?’

“‘Her aunt died.’

“‘In rather odd circumstances?’

“‘It was explained at the inquest. I nursed her.’

“‘Of course.’ she said. ‘But what qualifications would this … person … have?’

“‘Miss Brett is the highly educated daughter of an Army officer. Of course it might be difficult to persuade her to come.’

“She gave a snort of a laugh. As much as to say whoever had to be persuaded to work for her!

“‘And what of this … antique business?’ she asked triumphantly. ‘Surely this young woman would not wish to give up a flourishing business to become a governess!’

“‘Lady Crediton,’ I said, ‘Miss Brett had a hard time nursing her aunt.’

“‘I thought you did that?’

“‘I was referring to the time before I came. Illness in the house is very … inconvenient … in a small house, I mean. And the strain is great. Moreover the business is too much for one to run. She is selling it and I know would like a change.’

“She had decided right from the start that she wanted you and the objections were purely habit. She merely did not want me to think that she was eager. And the outcome is that you are to present yourself for an interview tomorrow afternoon. When I return I shall tell her whether or not you are coming for the interview. I made her understand that I would have to persuade you — and that my accompanying Mrs. Stretton might well depend on your acceptance.”

“Oh, Chantel … it can’t!”

“Well I daresay I should have to go in any case. You see, it is my job and I feel that I’m beginning to understand poor Monique.”

Poor Monique! His wife! The woman to whom he had been married when he came here and led me to believe … But he didn’t. It was my foolish imaginings. But how could I look after his child?

“It sounds rather crazy,” I said. “I had thought of advertising to help an antique dealer.”

“Now how many antique dealers are looking for assistants? I know you’re knowledgeable but your sex would go against you, and it would be a chance in ten thousand if you found one.”

“It’s true,” I said. “But I need time to think.”

“There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.”

I laughed. “And you think this is such a tide?”

“I know that you shouldn’t stay here. You’ve changed Anna. You’ve grown … morbid. Who wouldn’t, living in such a place … after all that happened?”

“I have to let the house,” I said. “I can’t sell. I never should. So much needs to be done for it. The house agent has found a man and his wife who are passionately interested in old buildings. They would have the house and look after it and do the repairs, but I should get no rent for three years during which time they undertake to do all that is necessary.”

“Well that settles it.”

“Chantel! How can it!”

“You without a roof over your head. Your tenants will do the repairs and live in the house. Of course it’s the answer.”

“I have to think about it.”

“You have to make an appointment to see Lady Crediton tomorrow. Don’t look alarmed. It wouldn’t be final even then. Come and see her. See the Castle for yourself. And think of us, Anna. And think too how lonely you would be if I went away and you joined that miserable antique dealer whom you haven’t found yet and probably never will.”

“How do you know the antique dealer will be miserable?”

“Comparatively so … compared with the excitement I’m offering you. I’ll have to go. I’ll tell Lady C. that you will come along and see her tomorrow afternoon.”

She talked of the Castle for some little time before she left. I was caught up in her excitement about the place. She had made me see it so clearly through her journal.

How quiet it was at night in the Queen’s House. The moon shone through my window filling the room with its pale light, showing the shapes in my room of those pieces of furniture which had not yet been sold.

“Tick tock, tick tock!” said the grandmother clock on the wall. Victorian. Who would want it? They had never been so popular as grandfathers.

I heard the creak of a stair, which when I was young used to make me think some ghost was walking, but it was only the shrinking of the wood. Silence all about me — and the house, now denuded of the clutter of furniture, gaining a new dignity. Who could admire the paneled walls when they were hidden by tallboys and cabinets? Who could appreciate the fine proportions of the rooms when pieces of furniture were put there as I used to say “for the time being.”

Lately I had been picturing the house furnished as I should have liked to furnish it. In the hall I would have a Tudor chest like the one I had seen in an old house and had tried to buy but was outbidden. Fourteenth century with St. George and the Dragon carved on the front; a carved refectory table; high wooden chairs.

But what was the use of dreaming? I could not afford to live in the Queen’s House although it was mine, for if I did it would soon start falling into ruin. For its own sake I must leave it.

And this offer? To go right away, even out of the country. In the past I had dreamed of sailing on a ship to go to India to my parents. I remembered those days when I had walked down to the quay with Ellen and looked at the ships and dreamed of stowing away.

And now … the opportunity had come. I should be a fool to miss it.

I thought of what life would be like if I did. The utter loneliness. Trying to find a post. As Chantel asked: How many antique dealers were looking for an assistant at this moment?

And I could enjoy this excitement. Yes, I was excited. That was why I couldn’t sleep.

I put on my dressing gown. I went to the foot of the stairs. It was here that Aunt Charlotte had fallen on that night. It was here that I had stood with Captain Stretton. He was beside me holding the candle high, and we had gone downstairs together. I could recapture the excitement of that time, because I had believed that I was on the brink of a wonderful adventure. I had gone on believing that until that day when I had learned that he was married … had actually been married when he came here and laughed with me and made me feel — as I had not since my mother died — that I was of some importance to someone.

Down the stairs to the room where we had eaten together.

I could not bear to think of it now.

And I was proposing to go away to look after his child!

Where would he be? I had not asked Chantel. He was at the Castle now, I knew. I suppose he would go away soon but if I looked after his child there would be times when I saw him.

What was I doing walking about the house at night holding a candle in a beautiful gilded candlestick — the same one which he had held that night, for we had never sold it.

I was becoming eccentric. Young Miss Brett was becoming Odd Miss Brett; very soon she would be odd, old Miss Brett. And if I did not take this opportunity I would blame myself for the rest of my dull life.

And if I did, if I agreed to go and look after his child, what then?

I dressed myself with care. Neat, I thought, not rich nor gaudy. “The apparel oft proclaims the man” … or the woman for that matter.

I was thinking of Lady Crediton whom I had seen only once in the presence of Aunt Charlotte. That had been a long time ago. I was determined that she should not get the better of me.

Being apprehensive I seemed to acquire a cool indifference; not even those who knew me very well realized that it was assumed. Even Chantel believed me to be in command of myself, mistress of the situation. That was what Lady Crediton must believe.

I had ordered the local fly to take me to the Castle so that I should not appear windblown or flustered on arrival. In my brown costume, which Chantel had pointed out was not the color which most became me, with a rather sedate brown hat trimmed with straw-colored chiffon and my plain brown gloves, I thought I looked the perfect governess — as though I could accept authority while in my own sphere I could command it.

But why should I be concerned. If Lady Crediton decided against me, that would settle the matter, and I should not have to make the decision.

Did I want to accept? Of course I did, for even though I knew that if I did I should see the Captain again and that I could be bitterly hurt, I found the prospect irresistible.

There were two roads open to me. I could go on in my drab way or I could seek strange new adventures. But I said to myself: I could find disaster along either road. Who could say?

So … let Lady Crediton decide for me.

I was in that hall again. There were the tapestries. I could almost hear his voice. What an impression he had made! Surely after all these years I should have forgotten him.

“Her ladyship will see you now’, Miss Brett.” That was the dignified Baines, spoken of with awe by Ellen, the rather comic Baines of Chantel’s journal.

I followed him up the stairs as I had on that other occasion. I felt as though I were going back in time and when he opened that door I should see Aunt Charlotte sitting there, bargaining for the escritoire.

She had changed little; she sat in the same high-backed chair; she was as autocratic as ever; but she was more interested in me than she had been on that other occasion.

“Pray be seated,” she said.

I sat down.

“I hear from Nurse Loman that you wish for the post of governess which is vacant.”

“I should like to hear more of it, Lady Crediton.”

She looked faintly surprised. “I understood from Nurse Loman that you were free to take the post.”

“I should be in a month or so, if it suited me.”

It was the way to treat her, as Chantel had said. And while she talked of my duties, my salary, one side of me was studying the room and assessing values in my usual way while the other was alert wondering what the outcome would be and trying to discover what I really wanted.

My lack of eagerness must have been an asset. Lady Crediton was so used to humility in those who worked in her household that any sign of independence disconcerted her and made her believe that any who showed it must have special qualities.

At length she said: “I shall be pleased, Miss Brett, if you agree to take this post and should like to see you here as soon as possible. I would be willing to make the same arrangement that I have with Nurse Loman. You would accompany the child to his mother’s home and if you did not wish to stay you would be brought back to England at my expense. As the child’s governess has already gone, we need her replacement as soon as possible.”

“I understand that, Lady Crediton, and I will let you know my decision within a day or so.”

“Your decision?”

“I have a business to clear up. I am sure it will take me the best part of a month.”

“Very well, but you can decide now. Suppose I agree to wait a month?”

“In that case …”

“The matter is settled. But, Miss Brett, I shall expect you to come as soon as possible. It is so … inconvenient for the child to be without a governess. I shall not take up references, since you have been recommended by Nurse Loman.”

I was dismissed; I came out of the room slightly dazed.

She had decided for me, but of course I should not have let her do that unless I had wanted her to.

Why deceive myself? As soon as Chantel had made this proposition, I knew that I was going to accept it.

It was mid-October before I left the Queen’s House. Everything was settled. I had cleared out to a dealer the remaining pieces at a great sacrifice. Only the famous bed remained which was the house’s heirloom and would never be moved. The new tenants were to arrive the day after I went to the Castle, and the keys of the house were with the house agent.

I walked through those empty rooms, seeing them as I never had seen them before. How lovely they were with the lofty carved ceilings which one had scarcely noticed before; the exciting little alcoves which had usually been occupied to invisibility; the buttery and still-room restored to their original meaning. I was sure the new tenants would love the house. I had met them twice and the excitement in their eyes over the old beams, the herringbone decorations on the panels, the sloping floors and so on had made me realize that they would cherish the house.

My bags were packed; the station fly would be at the door any moment now. I took one more look round the house and the bell was tinkling. The fly had come.

So I walked out of the old life into the new.

This was my third visit to the Castle, but how different it was from the two previous ones. Then I had been paying calls; now I had come in order to be part of its life.

I was received by Baines and very soon handed over to Edith. This was a concession and due to the fact that not only was I Chantel’s friend but Ellen had worked for me and, I presumed, given me a good reference.

“We hope you’ll be very comfortable here, Miss Brett,” said Edith. “If there is anything which doesn’t please you you must let me know.” She had borrowed dignity from Baines. I thanked her and said that I was sure I should be comfortable during my stay in the Castle.

For that was what it was. We should be sailing in a month or so.

My room was in the turret which Chantel had described to me. The Stretton turret. Here lived the sick, hysterical Monique, Chantel and my charge.

I looked round the room. It was large and comfortably carpeted. The bed was a fourposter, small, uncurtained, early Georgian. There was a small chest, rather heavy — Germanic; with two chairs of the same period as the bed and one armchair. There was an alcove rather like the ruelle one finds in French châteaux and there were a table with a mirror, a hip bath, and toilet necessities. I should be more comfortable here than I had been in the Queen’s House.

No sooner had Edith left me to unpack than Chantel came in. She sat on my bed and laughed at me. “So you’re really here, Anna. It’s wonderful how everything works out as I want it.”

“Do you think I shall be all right? After all, I have never had anything to do with small children. Edward will probably loathe me.”

“In any case he won’t despise you as he did poor old Beddoes. Respect is what you have to get from children. Affection follows.”

“Respect? Why should this infant respect me?”

“Because he will see in you an omniscient, omnipotent being.”

“You make me sound like a deity.”

“That’s exactly how I feel. At this moment I am proud of myself. I feel there is nothing I can’t accomplish.”

“Why? Because you have succeeded in putting a friend into a vacant post?”

“Oh, Anna, please. Not so prosaic. Let me enjoy my power for a while. Power over Lady Crediton, who sees herself if ever anyone did as the reigning sovereign.”

“At least she has to come down to earth.”

“Anna, it is good to have you here! And think — we are going to the other side of the world … together. Doesn’t that excite you?”

I admitted that it did.

The door opened and Edward peeped in.

“Come along in, my child,” cried Chantel, “and meet your new governess.”

He came — eyes alight with expectation. Oh yes, he was the Captain’s son all right. He had the same eyes which turned up slightly at the corners. My emotions were startling. I thought how happy I would have been if he were my son.

“How do you do,” I said politely, extending a hand.

He took it gravely. “How do you do, Miss … Miss.”

“Brett,” said Chantel.

“Miss Brett,” he repeated.

He was somewhat precocious. I suppose his had been a rather unusual life so far. He would have lived on this island to which we were going and then suddenly he was brought to England and the Castle.

“Are you going to teach me?” he asked.

“I am.”

“I am rather clever,” he informed me.

Chantel laughed. “Edward, that is for others to decide.”

“But I have decided.”

“You hear that, Anna, he has decided that he is rather clever. That will make your task quite easy.”

“We shall see,” I said.

He regarded me warily.

“I am going on a ship,” he said. “A big ship.”

“So are we,” Chantel reminded him.

“Shall I do lessons on the ship?”

“But of course,” I put in. “Otherwise there wouldn’t be any point in my coming.”

“I shall go on the bridge,” he said, “if we’re shipwrecked.”

“For Heaven’s sake don’t say such a thing,” cried Chantel. She turned to me. “Now you have met Master Edward, let me take you and introduce you to his Mamma. She will be most interested to meet you.”

“Will she?” asked Edward.

“Of course, she will want to see the governess of her darling child.”

“I’m not her darling child … today. I am some days though.”

That bore out what Chantel had told me of his mother.

I had met his child, now I was to meet his wife.

Chantel took me to her. She was lying in bed and I felt a twinge of emotion which I could not quite analyze. She was so beautiful. She lay back on lace-edged pillows and she wore a white silk and lace bed-jacket over her nightdress. There was a faint flush in her cheeks and her dark eyes were luminous. She breathed heavily and with some difficulty.

“This is Miss Brett, Edward’s new governess.”

“You are a friend of Nurse Loman’s.” She made it a statement rather than a question.

I agreed that I was.

“You are not much like her.” I could see that was not meant to be a compliment. She looked at Chantel and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

“I’m afraid not,” I said.

“Miss Brett is more serious than I,” said Chantel. “She will make an ideal governess.”

“And you had a furniture shop,” she said.

“You could call it that.”

“You couldn’t,” declared Chantel indignantly. “It was an antique business, which is very different. Only highly skilled people who know a great deal about old furniture can manage an antique shop successfully.”

“And Miss Brett managed this successfully?”

It was a sly thrust. If I had managed successfully in such a highly skilled endeavor why should I be taking the post of governess?

“Very successfully,” said Chantel. “And now that you have met Miss Brett I am going to suggest you have your tea; and after that a little rest.” She turned to me. “Mrs. Stretton had an attack yesterday … not a bad one … but still an attack. I always insist on her being very quiet after them.”

Yes, Chantel was in charge.

Edward, who had been watching the scene quietly, said that he would sit by his Mamma and tell her about the big ship they were going to sail on. But she turned her face away and Chantel said: “Come and tell me instead, Edward, while I cut your Mamma’s bread and butter.”

So I went back to my room to finish my unpacking and I felt somewhat lightheaded, as though I had strayed into some dream, completely out of touch with reality.

I stood at the turret window and looked out. I could see right across the grounds to the gorge and beyond it to where the houses of Langmouth looked like dolls’ houses in a toy town from this distance. And I thought am I really here — I, Anna Brett, in the Castle at last — governess to his son, living in close contact with his wife.

And then I thought: Was I wise to come?

Wise? By the state of my feelings I knew that I had been most unwise.

11

I settled down to my duties immediately. I found my pupil as he himself had informed me bright and eager to learn. He was wayward as most children are and while he was quite good at the lessons which appealed to him — such as geography and history — he set up a resistance against those which he did not like such as arithmetic and drawing.

“You will never be a sailor unless you learn everything,” I told him and this impressed him.

I had discovered that he could always be lured to do something if he was told it was what sailors did. I knew why.

Of course the Castle fascinated me. It was a fake, as Aunt Charlotte had said, but what a glorious fake. In building the Castle, the architects had certainly had the Normans in mind and here was displayed the massiveness of that kind of architecture. Arches were rounded, the walls very thick, the buttresses massive. The staircases which led to the turrets were typically Norman — narrow where built into the wall and widening out. One had to watch one’s step on these but I did this automatically because I never ceased to marvel at the skill in giving them such an appearance of antiquity. The Creditons had done what one would expect of them — they had combined antiquity with comfort.

I learned from Chantel that we were sailing on Serene Lady. “And I trust,” said Chantel, “that she will live up to her name. I should hate to be seasick.” We were carrying a cargo of machine tools to Australia and after a short stay there we should go on to the islands with another cargo, she supposed.

“There will only be twelve or fourteen passengers, so I heard, but I’m not at all sure. Don’t you feel excited?”

I did, of course. When I had seen Monique and the boy I had wondered about the wisdom of my coming, but I knew that if I had the opportunity to make the decision again I would do exactly the same. It was a challenge.

Chantel guessed my thoughts. “If you had stayed in England and gone on with your drab plans you would have settled down to a life of regrets. There’s nothing more boring, Anna, for you and for those about you. You would have set up an image of your Captain and enshrined it in your memory. Why? Because nothing exciting would have happened to you. When you experience something like that, the only way to get it out of your mind is to impose images over it. And one day something so wonderful will happen that it will completely obliterate it. That’s life.”

I often said to myself: “What should I do without Chantel?”

During my second week at the Castle I came face to face with the Captain.

I had walked in the grounds as far as the cliff edge and stood by the rail looking over at the sheer drop when I was aware of someone coming up behind me.

I turned and there he was.

“Miss Brett,” he said; and held out his hand.

He had changed a little. There were more lines about his eyes; there was a grimness about his lips which had not been there before. “Why … Captain Stretton.”

“You look surprised. I do live here, you know.”

“But I thought you were away.”

“I’ve been up to the London office, getting briefed for my voyage. But I’m back here now, as you see.”

“Yes,” I said, seeking to cover my embarrassment. “I see.”

“I was very sorry to hear about your aunt … and all the trouble.”

“Fortunately Nurse Loman was with me.”

“And now she has brought you here.”

“She told me that the post of governess to your … son … was vacant. I applied and was given it.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

I tried to speak lightly. “You have not really tested my qualifications yet.”

“I am sure they are … admirable. And our acquaintance was far too brief.”

“I do not see how it could have been otherwise.”

“I was going to sea, I remember. I shall never forget that night. How pleasant it was … until your aunt returned. Then the warm cozy atmosphere was gone and we had to face her disapproval.”

“That night was the beginning of her illness. She came to my room after to speak to me.”

“By which you mean to reprimand?”

I nodded. “Going back to her room she fell over a piece of furniture.”

“Her furniture?”

“Yes, but she fell down the stairs and that was the beginning of her being crippled.”

“You must have had a trying time.”

I did not answer, and he went on: “I thought of you often. I wished I had been able to call again and ask what happened. And then I heard that she had died.”

“Everyone was talking of it at the time.”

“After I left you I went off on The Secret Woman. You remember the name of the ship.”

I did not tell him that I still had the figurehead which I had taken him up to my bedroom to see.

“That was disastrous too,” he said.

“Oh.”

But he had changed the subject. “So now you are here to teach young Edward. He’s a bright boy, I believe.”

“I believe he is so.”

“And you are sailing shortly on Serene Lady.”

“Yes. For me it is something of an adventure.”

“It is years since you have been at sea,” he said. “At least I suppose you have not sailed since you came home from India.”

“I’m surprised that you remember that.”

“You would be even more surprised if you knew how much I remembered.”

He was looking at me intently. I was suddenly happier than I had been since I had last seen him. It was foolish but I couldn’t help it. I thought: It is the way he has. He looks at women as though he finds them interesting, making them feel they are important in his eyes. It’s just a habit charming people acquire. Perhaps it is the very essence of charm. But it doesn’t mean anything.

“Well, that is flattering,” I said lightly.

“At the same time I must convince you that it is the truth.”

“I should need a little convincing,” I said.

“Why?”

“You are a sailor. You are accustomed to adventures. That evening at the Queen’s House for me was an adventure. For you it was a casual encounter. You see, my aunt’s return and her fall made it high drama for me.”

“Well, I was part of the drama, too.”

“No. You had already left the stage before the drama began.”

“But the play’s not over is it? Because here are two of the characters engaging in their dialogue in another scene.”

I laughed. “No, it ended with Aunt Charlotte’s death. ‘The drama of the Queen’s House.’”

“But there’ll be a sequel, perhaps it will be the comedy of Serene Lady.”

“Why should it be a comedy?”

“Because I always liked them better than tragedies. It’s much more fun to laugh than cry.”

“Oh, I agree. But sometimes it seems to me that there is more in life to cry about than to laugh at.”

“My dear Miss Brett, you are misled. I shall make it my duty to change your view.”

“How … when?” I asked.

“On Serene Lady, perhaps.”

“But you …”

He was looking at me intently.

“But surely you had heard? She’s my ship. I shall be in charge of her during our voyage.”

“So … you …”

“Don’t tell me you’re disappointed. I thought you would be pleased. I assure you I am a most capable master. You need have no fears that we’ll founder.”

I gripped the rail behind me. I was thinking I should never have come. I should have found that post which would never again have brought me into contact with him.

I was not indifferent to him; I could never be, and he was aware of this. He did not mention his wife any more than he had on that other night. I wanted to talk of her. I wanted to know of the relationship between them. But what concern was it of mine?

I should never have come. I knew it now.

There followed weeks of feverish energy. Chantel was in a state of great excitement.

“Who would have believed this possible when we were in the Queen’s House, Anna?”

“I admit it’s strange that we should both be here, and about to leave the country.”

“And who brought it about, eh?”

“You did. And did you know that Edward’s father is the Captain of our ship?”

She was silent for a while. Then she said: “Well, we have to have a captain, don’t we? We can’t sail without one.”

“So you did know,” I said.

“In due course. But does it matter, Anna?”

“I knew that I would sail with his wife and son but not with him.”

“Does it bother you?”

I must be frank with Chantel. “Yes,” I said, “it does.”

“He still has power to stir your emotions in spite of the fact that you know him for what he is.”

“What is he?”

“A philanderer. A maritime Casanova. Oh, nothing serious. He likes women. That’s why women like him. It’s a false theory that we like misogamists. We don’t. The men who are attractive to women are those who are attracted by women. It’s simply a matter of flattery.”

“That may be, but …”

“Anna, you’re perfectly safe. You know him now. You know when he says charming things and gives you languishing looks it’s all part of a game. It’s not an unpleasant game. It’s known as Flirtation. Quite enjoyable as long as you know how to keep it under control.”

“As you do … with Rex.”

“Yes, if you like.”

“You mean you know Rex will never marry you, that he is going to propose to Miss Derringham, but you can be quite happy being what you would no doubt call flirtatious friends?”

“I can be quite happy with my relationship with Rex,” she said firmly. “As you must be about yours with our gallant Captain.”

“I can see,” I said, “that I must learn from your philosophy of life.”

“It has served me very well so far,” she admitted.

Teaching was easier than I had believed. Perhaps it was because I had such a bright and interested pupil. We studied maps together and I traced our journey with him. His eyes — so like his father’s, except that they were brown — would light up with excitement. The map was not a sheet of paper with different colored portions; it was a world.

“Here,” he would say, putting a finger into an expanse of blue, “is Mamma’s island.”

“You see it is not very far from the continent of Australia.”

“When she gets there she’ll be happy,” he told me.

“Let us hope that we shall all be happy there.”

“But …” His eyes were puzzled, and he struggled to express his thoughts. “We are now. It’s only Mamma who has to be happy. It’s because it’s her island, you see.”

“I see.”

“The Captain will love her again there,” he announced gravely. He always spoke of his father as the Captain with reverence and awe. I wondered how much he heard of their quarrels and what construction he put on them.

Monique never made any attempts to restrain herself, and I was near enough to her room often to hear her voice raised in anger. Sometimes she seemed to be pleading. I wondered how he was with her. Was he unhappy? He did not seem so. But then he probably treated his marriage too lightly to be especially bothered because it was not a success. As Chantel had said of him: He liked all women too well to be too much involved with one. That must be a comfort to him, and yet what sorrow for the woman who loved him, as I believed Monique did.

I should never have come. I was not sufficiently aloof. It was no use my trying to adopt Chantel’s philosophy. It could never be mine. I was already too deeply involved.

And Chantel, was she as in command of her feelings as she would have me believe?

When I saw her walking in the gardens with Rex it would have been easy to believe that they were lovers. There was something about their pleasure in each other’s company, the way they talked and laughed together. Is she as invulnerable as she pretends? I wondered; and I was concerned that she might be hurt as I had been.

Such uneasy weeks they were. I think the happiest hours were those when I was alone with Edward. We had taken to each other. I think I must have been an improvement on the not very satisfactory Miss Beddoes, and it is always easier to follow a failure than a success. Lessons had become centered round the coming trip. That was easily explained in geography, but I found myself telling of the colonization of Australia and the arrival of the First Fleet. In arithmetic he found it easier to concentrate when the sums were concerned with cargo. A magic word in itself.

Whenever we went out our walks always took us to those heights where we could look down on the docks and see the shipping spread out before us.

Edward would dance about with excitement.

“Look at her. She’s a wool clipper. She’s going to sail to Australia. Perhaps we’ll get there before her. I think we shall … because we are sailing with the Captain.”

Once we took the binoculars with us and there we saw her. We could make out her name painted on her side in bold black letters: Serene Lady.

“That’s our ship, Edward,” I told him.

“It’s the Captain’s ship,” he replied soberly.

“They’re getting her ready for her journey,” I added.

The time was close at hand when we should leave England.

It was a thrilling moment when, Edward’s hand in mine, I climbed the gangway and stepped onto the deck of Serene Lady. I felt reckless and yes, happy. I couldn’t help it. The excitement of the adventure was with me, and I knew that had I stayed behind and known that on this ship Redvers Stretton sailed — and Chantel with him — I should have been as depressed and unhappy as I ever was in my life.

I thought the Serene Lady beautiful. I had been as excited as Edward when I had seen her through the binoculars; but to step on board to see for myself her polished brass and gleaming decks and to think that she was Captain Stretton’s ship thrilled me deeply. She was one of the new steamers which Chantel told me “we” (quoting Edith) were adding to “our” fleet. “Perhaps nothing can be quite so romantic as the sailing barques, brigs, and cutters, but they’re fast becoming old fashioned and we have to be up-to-date.”

Serene Lady was not a big ship, but she carried a sizable cargo and twelve passengers into the bargain, among whom were to be Rex, Chantel, Edward, his mother, and myself.

Chantel was with me when I went on board. Her green eyes sparkling like gems, the breeze catching at her titian hair, she looked lovely and I wondered afresh whether the obvious interest she had in Rex made her as vulnerable as I feared I was.

The cabins were fitted with carpets, beds, fixed dressing tables, which could be used as desks, armchairs, and built-in cupboards.

While we were examining them Chantel came in. I must go and see hers which was only a few doors away. Hers was part of a suite and Monique’s adjoined it. She showed us this. There were flowers on the dressing table and the curtains at the porthole were of silk not chintz as in ours.

Edward sat on the bed and started to bounce up and down on it.

“It’s very grand,” I said.

“Well, what did you expect for the Captain’s wife?” demanded Chantel. “Mind you, she won’t always sleep here. Only when I have to keep my eyes on her. I daresay she will want to share the Captain’s quarters.” She pointed up. “Near the bridge,” she added.

“I’m going on the bridge,” said Edward.

“If you’re not careful, my lad,” said Chantel, “you’ll be ill with excitement before you have a chance to suffer from the sea.”

But there was no calming Edward. He wanted to explore; so I took him up to the top deck and we watched the final preparations being made for our departure.

On that wintry afternoon when a big red sun showed itself through the mist, to the sound of sirens we began to move out into the Channel and began our journey to the other side of the world.

The lady remained serene through the Bay of Biscay. When I awoke in my cabin on the first morning I had difficulty in recalling where I was; and as I looked round I really could not believe that I was on board the Captain’s ship en route for exotic places. My trouble was, as Chantel had pointed out on several occasions, that I expected life to be dull and uneventful. Hardly uneventful, I had pointed out grimly, recalling Aunt Charlotte’s death. “Well,” she had temporized, “you always imagine that exciting romantic things won’t happen to you. Therefore they don’t. We get what we work for in this world, remember … or some part of it. Take what you want That’s my motto.”

“There’s an old saying, Spanish I think, that says ‘Take what you want,’ said God. ‘Take it and pay for it.’”

“Who’s complaining of the cost?”

“People don’t always know what it will be until the bill is presented.”

“My dear, precise, prosaic old Anna! There you are, you see. Immediately you think of pleasure you start calculating the cost when anyone knows that that is likely to put a damper on the proceedings.”

I lay there on that first morning recalling that conversation, but when I got up and felt the slight roll of the ship beneath my feet, when I parted the chintz curtains and looked through the porthole at the gray-blue sea, I felt a lightening of my spirits that was more than excitement, and I said to myself: I’ll be like Chantel. I’ll start to enjoy life and I won’t think of the cost until the bill is presented.

And that determination stayed with me. I was indeed intoxicated by the novelty of being at sea, living close to my friend Chantel, and knowing that Red Stretton was on board and that at any moment I might meet him face to face.

She was a good ship because she was his ship. There was to me a feeling of security because he was in charge. The fact was that if I did not look into the future and ask myself what would happen at the end of the voyage, I could be content during those golden days when we sailed past the coast of Spain and Portugal to call at the Rock of Gibraltar before entering the Mediterranean Sea.

There were eight passengers on board besides our own party, including a boy of about Edward’s age. This was reckoned to be good luck because the two boys would be companions for each other.

The boy was Johnny Malloy, the son of Mrs. Vivian Malloy, who was going to Australia to join her husband who had already made a home for her there; she was accompanied by Mrs. Blakey, her widowed sister, who was helping her to look after young Johnny.

Then there were Gareth and Claire Glenning. Claire was a gentle, almost timid woman in her early forties, I imagined, and her husband was a few years older, very courtly and gallant and over-anxious for his wife’s comfort. The other party consisted of an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Greenall, who were going out to Australia to visit a married daughter and her family, and with them traveled Mrs. Greenall’s sister, Miss Ella Rundle, a rather prim woman who was constantly finding fault with everything.

During the first days or so at sea these people were just figures to me, but it was not long before they began to develop definite personalities. Chantel and I used to discuss them. I would go into her cabin, when Monique was not in the next one, and we would invent life stories for them which the more outrageous they were the more they amused us. I was beginning to get as lighthearted as Chantel. I told her I was taking over her philosophy of life.

A great deal of my time was devoted to Edward. I was obsessed by the fear that he might fall overboard and I would not let him out of my sight during those first days. To make matters more difficult, in the beginning of their acquaintance he and Johnny took a dislike to each other, until, realizing that there was no one else with whom they could play, there was at first an armed neutrality then a truce followed by a reluctant acceptance of each other which was to flower into friendship. But during those early days the sights and scenes of the ship were so new that it was difficult to absorb them and it was some time before I could accept them as normal.

I took breakfast, luncheon and tea with Edward, and Johnny and Mrs. Blakey joined us at table. Mrs. Blakey, although the sister of Mrs. Malloy, was treated as a poor relation. She told me that dear Vivian, her sister, had paid her passage and was going to give her a home in the new world. She wanted to show her gratitude by doing all she could. It seemed to me that she did this by acting as nursery governess to Johnny Malloy.

I learned quite a lot of her life history. The runaway match with the young actor of whom her family did not approve, and who, at the time of their marriage, had already been on the point of going into a decline; his death and destitution, the forgiveness and return into the family. Beneficent Vivian would take her to Australia, give her a new start and for that she would be expected to show a little gratitude.

Poor Lucy Blakey, I was sorry for her. I knew what it meant to have been helped when in need, to be expected to pay by service. Surely the most exorbitant of costs.

We became quite friendly over our meals or when we walked the decks with our charges and sat watching them while they played quoits and deck tennis.

In the evenings the children had supper and went to bed at half-past seven; and for dinner, which took place at eight o’clock, Mrs. Blakey and I joined the rest of the company. There was a place for me at the Purser’s table; Mrs. Blakey sat at the First Officer’s.

The Purser’s table was at one end of the dining salon, the Captain’s table at the other, so I did catch a glimpse of Redvers now and then, though he did not appear in the dining salon every evening. Sometimes he took his dinner in his own quarters but during our first three evenings I only saw him once. He looked handsome in his uniform, which made his blond hair look more fair than ever.

At his table were Monique, Claire and Gareth Glenning, and Mr. and Mrs. Greenall.

Chantel was at the Ship’s Doctor’s table with Rex. I quickly realized that even though the Captain was on the ship I should very likely see little of him, and it dawned on me then that I was not the one in danger so much as Chantel. I wondered what her true feelings for Rex were and whether beneath her air of casual pleasure she was hurt and bewildered. Rex paid attention to her in his way — and it was a different way from that of the Captain. More serious, one might say, for Rex gave me the impression that he was not the man to be lightly flirtatious.

I had started to think a great deal about Rex. I had the impression that he was a man who showed little of his feelings to the world. It was only occasionally that I caught the look in his eyes when he glanced at Chantel; it was almost fierce, possessive. But how could this be when he was, as we knew full well, on his way to Australia to renew his courtship — if it had ever begun — of Miss Derringham?

And Chantel? I could not understand her either. I had often seen her in animated conversation with Rex and she seemed at such times to sparkle and be even more gay than usual. And yet she never seemed in the least perturbed when Miss Derringham’s name was mentioned.

I said to her: “Chantel, I should love to see your journal again. It would be interesting to compare our views of ship life.”

She laughed. “I don’t keep it now … as I did.”

“Do you never write in it?”

“Never. Well, hardly ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because life is so exciting.”

“But isn’t that a reason why you should capture it, write it down, so that in the future you can live it all again?”

“Dear Anna,” she said, “I think I wrote all that when I was at the Castle for you. I wanted you to share in it all, and that was the only way. Now it’s not necessary. You’re here. You’re living it first hand. You don’t need my journal.”

We were sitting in her cabin, I on the armchair, she stretched out on her bed.

“I wonder,” I said, “what will be the end of it.”

“Now that depends on ourselves.”

“As you’ve remarked before.”

“The fault, as somebody said, is not in our stars but in ourselves.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Trust you to know. But it’s true. Besides the element of doubt makes it all so fascinating, doesn’t it? If you knew exactly what was going to happen what would be the point of living it?”

“How is … Mrs. Stretton?” I asked.

Chantel shrugged her shoulders. “She won’t make old bones,” she said.

I shivered.

“Why, what’s the matter?” she asked.

“It’s your way of expressing it.”

“Very apt you must admit, very much to the point. Her lungs are badly affected.”

“Perhaps her native air …”

Chantel shrugged her shoulders. “I was talking to Dr. Gregory this afternoon.” (He was the ship’s doctor, a tall pale young man already attracted by Chantel I had noticed on more than one occasion.) “He said that he thought the disease had too big a hold on her. Even the balmy airs of Coralle may not be of any use now.”

“Does the Captain know?”

“You can bet the Captain knows. Perhaps that’s why he behaves in such a jaunty way.”

“Chantel!”

“Anna! But we mustn’t be hypocritical, must we? The gallant Captain must be fully aware that he made a bad mistake, the sort that very often has to be paid for during a whole lifetime. It looks as though the payment demanded may not be of such long duration.”

“Chantel, I wish …”

“That I would not be flippant about death. Why not? It helps you not to be afraid of it, for yourself or for other people. Don’t forget I’m on better acquaintance with that grim creature than most. I meet him frequently in my profession. It makes me feel less respectful toward him. And don’t grieve for the Captain. Who knows, there might be what is called a happy release.”

I stood up. I did not want to sit in Chantel’s cabin discussing the death of his wife.

She jumped off the bed and slipped her arm through mine.

“I’m always flippant when I’m most serious. You should know that, Anna. But don’t worry about my patient. You can be sure I shall give her the very best attention. And if the inevitable should happen …”

Her face was close to mine; how her green eyes glittered.

And I thought: She is thinking that if she died the Captain would be free … free for me.

How fond I was of her. But I wanted to explain I could not wish for the death of anyone whatever the advantages were to me.

12

Our first port of call was Gibraltar; I awoke one morning, looked through my porthole and there it was — the great rock rising high out of the water.

I had passed by here before. Years and years ago it seemed, as a child, a little older than Edward; and I remembered how excited I had felt, and how safe because my parents were in the next cabin. I often wondered what Edward felt for his mother; I knew that he considered his father to be some sort of god. Was that because he was a captain and sailed ships round the world, or because of the man himself?

I thought of Chantel’s verdict on Monique; and I wondered about the future, and of Chantel herself — with that aura of fascination which surrounded her. It was not only Rex and the ship’s doctor who were attracted by her; I had seen the glances that came her way. It was not only her beauty — and undoubtedly she had that — it was her vitality, a certain passion within herself; I felt that life with her would always be exciting. I suppose that was how others felt and wanted to share it.

We should be docked for a few hours at Gibraltar and there would be an opportunity to take a trip ashore. Chantel had said that she would have liked to make up a party — say myself and the ship’s doctor and perhaps the First Officer. The Glennings were going off to visit friends ashore. And who wanted to be with the really rather decrepit Mr. and Mrs. Greenall — and even less did one desire the company of Miss Rundle!

I pointed out that I was here to look after Edward and he would wish to go ashore so I must go with him; and as Mrs. Blakey would be taking Johnny and the two boys wanted to go together I should go with her and Mrs. Malloy.

Chantel grimaced. “What a shame! Poor Anna!” she said lightly.

We had hired a carriage with a driver who would show us the sights. The boys were bouncing on their seats with excitement and poor Lucy Blakey could not restrain Johnny one bit — or perhaps she feared to in the presence of Mrs. Malloy. I felt no such restrictions. I told Johnny to sit still and to the amazement of his mother and aunt he obeyed me; I thought it was an excellent moment to give them a little combined geography and history lesson. Chantel would have laughed at me if she had been there. How I wished she had been.

It was a beautiful day and the sunshine seemed brilliant after the misty dampness of Langmouth.

“It has belonged to us since 1704,” I told Edward.

“To the Creditons?” he asked.

Mrs. Malloy and Mrs. Blakey joined in my laughter. “No, Edward, to Britain.”

Edward was a little puzzled; I was sure he believed that his formidable grandmother owned Britain.

“It is called Gibraltar,” I went on, “after an Arab called Gebel Tarik who came here long, long ago.”

“Before we did?” asked Johnny.

“Long before we did and he built a castle for himself and he gave the place its name. You see Gebel Tarik became Gibraltar. If you say it quickly you’ll see.”

The boys started shouting together: “Gebel Tarik. Gibraltaric … Gibraltar.”

“You will see the castle soon,” I told them and that silenced them, but when they saw the old Moorish Castle they pointed excitedly to it shouting “Gebel Tarik”; and I said to Mrs. Blakey: “That is something they will remember forever.”

“It’s an excellent way of teaching children,” said Mrs. Malloy graciously. I think she was a little piqued not to have been invited to join one of the other parties and I was sure she was thinking that the two nursery governesses should have been left to manage the children on their own. Poor Lucy Blakey! If one had to be an underling it was so much better to be so outside one’s own family. How much more independent I was now than when I was with Aunt Charlotte.

The highlight of our little trip was of course the sight of the apes. Several carriages had made the climb to the upper part of the Rock and were pulled up there. The Greenalls were there with Miss Rundle and they called a greeting.

We had difficulty in keeping the boys away from the apes, who were very spry and mischievous. Our driver had warned us not to get too near or they might steal our gloves or even our hats. It was a great pleasure to see the delight of the two boys; they chuckled and whispered together and I was a little afraid that one might urge the other on to some recklessness.

And then as we stood there watching the antics of the little creatures one of them came running down from higher up the slope with a green scarf in its mouth. There had been a shout of laughter and looking back whence he had come I saw Chantel with Rex. They were standing close together; his arm was through hers; they were laughing and I realized of course that it was her scarf which had been snatched.

So she and he had come exploring together. The pleasure of the outing was spoiled for me. I thought: She is going to be hurt, deeply hurt, because Lady Crediton will never allow it; and he is on his way to propose to Miss Derringham.

We drove back to the docks and I tried not to show that my mood had changed.

The boys were chattering about the apes. “Did you see that one …”

“Oh, I liked the other little one better.” I wondered whether Mrs.

Malloy had seen them, or Mrs. Blakey; and what they were thinking.

I said in my most prim governess voice, “There is a story that the apes came to Gibraltar through a passage under the sea from Barbary which is their native country.”

“Can we go through the passage?” asked Edward.

“It’s only a legend,” I said. “And there are bound to be legends about such things. Gibraltar is the only place in Europe where they are to be found. And they say that if ever they disappeared from the Rock it would cease to belong to us.”

The boys looked alarmed — whether or not it was due to the thought of the apes’ disappearance or the loss of the Rock I was not sure. I was not even thinking of them. My thoughts were occupied by Chantel and Rex; and I wondered how much she hid from me.

After Gibraltar we ran into choppy seas. The ship’s decks became deserted and most people kept to their cabins. To my joy I discovered that I was a good sailor. Even Edward had to keep to his bed, and this gave me a few hours of complete freedom. The wind was fierce and it was almost impossible to stand up, so I made my way with difficulty to one of the lower decks and lay stretched out on a chaise-longue type chair wrapped in a rug and watched the seas tossing the ship hither and thither as though she were made of cork.

Serene Lady, I thought. She was serene, unperturbed by the storm. Serenity! What a gift. I wished it were mine and I supposed that I gave the impression that it was; but that was only because I managed to hide my true feelings. Everyone on the ship I supposed did that. I began to wonder about them and to ask myself how different they really were from the personalities they showed to the world. In all of us, I suppose, there was a secret man or woman in hiding.

Philosophical thoughts, and suited to a solitary lying on a deserted deck, when the rest of the ship’s passengers — or most of them — were laid low with the effects of the weather at sea.

“Hello!” Someone was reeling along toward me. I saw it was Dick Callum, the purser.

“Brave woman,” he shouted above the roar of the sea.

“I have heard that the fresh air is the best thing possible on occasions like this.”

“Maybe, but we don’t want you washed overboard.”

“It’s a little sheltered here. I feel quite safe.”

“Yes, you’re safe enough there and the gale’s not so strong as it was half an hour ago. How do you feel?”

“Fairly well, thank you.”

“Fairly well suggests not completely well. I’ll tell you what, I’m going to get you a small brandy. That should make you feel absolutely well.”

“Please … I don’t …”

“But this is medicinal,” he said. “Purser’s orders. And I’m taking no refusal.”

He staggered away and was gone so long that I thought he had forgotten me, but eventually he emerged carrying with great balancing skill two glasses on a small tray.

He gave the tray to me to hold and then pulling up another of the chairs stretched out beside me.

I sipped the brandy and he was right; the faint queasiness I had felt began to disappear.

“One does not see much of you in ordinary weather,” he said with a smile. “It takes a gale to bring you out. You’re like the lady in the weather vane who only comes out for stormy weather.”

“I’m out,” I said, “but I have my duties.”

“As I have mine.”

“And on occasions like this?”

“A few hours off duty. Believe me we are in no danger of shipwreck, This is a high wind, and there’s a swell on. That’s all. We sailors don’t call this weather.”

There was something very attractive about him, something which seemed familiar to me; I could not quite place it.

“I almost feel,” I said, “that we’ve met before but that’s impossible, unless of course you came into the shop at Langmouth and looked at some furniture … briefly.”

He shook his head. “And if I had met you I don’t think I should have forgotten.”

I laughed at that. I didn’t believe it. I was no outstanding beauty, and my personality, rather aloof I always thought it, was not particularly memorable.

“Perhaps,” he said, “it was in another life.”

“Reincarnation. You believe in it?”

“A sailor is always ready to believe anything, they say. We’re a superstitious crowd. How’s the brandy?”

“Very warming, uplifting. I feel better for it. Thank you very much.”

“I know,” he said, “that you came out with the family. Were you at the Castle long before you sailed?”

“A very short time. I went there with the express purpose of making this voyage.”

“Quite a household, eh? And of course, we who owe our livelihood to the family are very respectful toward it.”

“You don’t sound particularly respectful at the moment.”

“Well, we’re off duty … both of us.”

“So it is only on duty that we must remember our gratitude to them?”

“Gratitude!” He laughed. Was he a trifle bitter? “Should I be? I do my job. I’m paid for it. Perhaps the Company should be grateful to me.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“It’s not often that we carry the Crown Prince and heir apparent on board.”

“You are referring to Mr. Rex Crediton.”

“I am indeed. I fancy he misses little. He will no doubt carry a report of all to headquarters and woe betide us if we fail in our duty.”

“He doesn’t strike me as being that kind of person at all. He always seems … pleasant.”

“A chip off the old block. The only thing that mattered to old Sir Edward, I always heard, was the business. He inspired Lady Crediton with the same ambitions. You see, she was ready to accept the Captain and his mother. I hear that lady died only a short while ago.”

“Yes, I heard that, too.”

“A strange household, eh?”

“Very unusual.”

“Of course our gallant Captain is a little piqued.”

“Why?”

“He’d like to be in Rex’s shoes.”

“Has he … told you so?”

“I’m not in his confidence. But I sympathize with him, in a way. The two of them brought up together and one the legitimate son and the other not legitimate. It would gradually dawn on him. There you have it. Rex the heir to millions and our gallant Captain … merely a captain with perhaps a small holding in the business.”

“He doesn’t seem to be the least bit resentful.”

“So … you know him well?”

“N-no.”

“Did you know him before you came on the ship? You must have. You can’t have seen much of him since we set out. He’ll be busy until after Port Said. So you did know him before the voyage started?”

“Well, I had met him.”

My voice had changed. I noticed it myself and could only hope that he did not.

“I see. And the nurse is a great friend of yours?”

“Oh yes, it was through her I came.”

“For a moment,” he said with a laugh, “I thought that it was our Captain who had brought you here to look after his son.”

“It was Nurse Loman,” I said quickly. “She nursed my aunt, and when this … post was vacant she recommended me.”

“And Her Majesty Lady C. accepted that recommendation.”

“She did and here I am.”

“Well, it’ll be an interesting voyage. Having the two of them on board makes it that.”

“You have sailed with Captain Stretton before?”

“Several times. I was with him on The Secret Woman.”

“Oh!”

“You sound surprised.”

“No … only I had heard of The Secret Woman and …”

“What did you hear of it?”

“Just that it was a ship … and that Lady Crediton had launched it.”

He laughed. “Yes. It should have been a Lady. Perhaps that was the trouble. It’s what you get for taking a woman to sea.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She should have been a Lady. Perhaps that would have made all the difference. Sailors’ superstition again.”

“Tell me what happened on The Secret Woman.”

“That is a mystery which I could not begin to tell you. Perhaps if you were to ask the Captain … he might know more.”

“A mystery?”

“A great mystery. There are many who think that only Captain Stretton knows the answer to the riddle.”

“And he won’t tell?”

Dick Callum laughed. “He scarcely could.”

“It all sounds very mysterious.”

“It was … and some say very beneficially mysterious to the Captain. I always felt I understood him, though. He had to grow up and see his half brother proclaimed as the Crown Prince.”

“Crown Prince …”

“Well, the Crediton fortune with all its ramifications is an empire in itself. And Rex is to inherit it. Yes, I always felt a certain understanding for the Captain. After all, he is a Crediton. I doubt whether he might not think reputation well lost for a fortune.”

“But what has this to do with the mystery of The Secret Woman?”

“Everything, I should imagine.”

“Now you have whetted my curiosity.”

“Miss Brett, I am but an employee of the Company; moreover I owe allegiance to my Captain. I have been indiscreet. My only excuse is that the circumstances were extraordinary. A high wind in the treacherous Mediterranean which is not as benign as it is made out to be; a brave lady on deck; the warming comfort of brandy. Please forget what I have said and forgive me if I have spoken too freely. It must have been, my dear Miss Brett, because you were such a sympathetic companion. Now, I beg of you, forget my foolish observations. We are on the Serene Lady who very shortly will arrive at Naples. And when we leave Naples I’ll prophesy that we shall have left the gales behind us. We shall sail on into sunshine; and every thing will be very merry on board under the influence of our very excellent Captain.”

“What a speech!”

“I have what my mother called the gift of the gab. A not very elegant phrase, but then she was not very elegant. However she was devoted to me and she gave me what she could, and as a result I received some education. Enough to insure that I was taken into the great Crediton Empire and allowed to serve my masters.”

“You sound not altogether pleased about that.”

“About my mother’s sacrifices?”

“No, entering the Empire, as you call it.”

“Oh but I am, I am the Empire’s grateful and humble servant.”

“Now you talk like Uriah Heep.”

“God forbid, and as you gather I am not particularly humble.”

“I had observed it.”

“You have great powers of observation, Miss Brett.”

“It would be pleasant to think so.”

“What did you think of Gibraltar?”

He had successfully changed the subject and while I felt slightly relieved at this, I was a little disappointed.

I talked of Gibraltar; and as I talked I thought of the ape with Chantel’s scarf and the sight of her arm in arm with Rex.

The powerful Empire, I thought. And those who attempted to thwart it — what happened to them?

We talked lightly for some time, and I felt I had a new friend. He was solicitous for my comfort and suggested that I might be getting cold. I thought it was time I returned to the cabin to see how Edward was, so I thanked him for the brandy and his company and made my way very cautiously, for we were still rocking, back to my cabin.

Dick Callum was right. Although it was cold in Naples where our stay was very short, as soon as we sailed out we moved toward the warmth. I often saw Dick Callum, who made a point of looking after me. I realized that he was an important member of the crew, being in charge of a large proportion of the staff, whereas the Captain was concerned with the navigation and this of course meant rare appearances. I felt this to be good, and when I had imagined myself going on this voyage I had thought that it would be like living in the same house with him. How different it was.

“The Captain comes down from the heights only rarely,” Dick Callum told me.

Chantel came to my cabin and I often went to hers, and I mentioned to her that I had seen her on the occasion when she had lost her scarf; she did not show the slightest embarrassment.

“Right at the last minute,” she said, “Rex Crediton asked me to accompany him, so I did. You’re looking shocked. You think I should have had a chaperon. My dear Anna, this is not England. We are allowed a little license surely in foreign parts? As a matter of fact poor Dr. Gregory had been bullied into taking Miss Rundle and that was something we could not endure. Escape was the only possible alternative. So … we lost them. Poor Dr. Gregory, he came back looking exhausted and … murderous.”

“Not very kind of you,” I commented.

“No, but wise.”

“Was it?” I asked, hoping this would lead to confidences, but it didn’t.

She turned the tables on me which was a favorite trick of hers. “You seem to be getting on well with Mr. Callum.”

“He has been most kind.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“It’s natural that we should notice each other,” I told her.

She laughed suddenly. “You are enjoying this, Anna. It’s different from the old Queen’s House, eh? Imagine being there now, and thinking of me here … and all that might have been.”

“I admit that I am finding this very interesting. But …”

“Oh stop it, Anna. You are not going into dismal prophecy, are you? You should always be gay. You never know what is round the corner. Every cloud has a silver lining, they say, and they wouldn’t have kept on saying it if it hadn’t been true.”

“They also say that it never rains but it pours.”

“You’re determined to be gloomy. Well, I intend to enjoy life.”

“Chantel, what happens when we arrive in Sydney?”

“I long to see it. I hear it’s quite fantastically beautiful. I shall ask if I may go up to the bridge when we come into the harbor so that I can see it perfectly.”

“Lots of people will leave the ship then … including your Mr. Rex Crediton.”

“But your Captain will remain.”

“My Captain!”

“My Mr. Rex Crediton!”

“Oh Chantel, there are times when I am a little uneasy.”

“My poor Anna. I must teach you to enjoy life. Did you know we are going to have a fancy dress dance? It’s customary you know. We have to think up some costumes.”

“You can’t go as the Chatelaine this time.”

“Well I’m not in a castle. Who ever heard of a chatelaine on a ship? I shall be a dancing girl, I think. Hair flowing … or perhaps a yasmak. That would be fun and appropriate, because there will be an Eastern atmosphere to the whole affair.”

How excited she could become about dressing up. I found this almost childlike quality appealing. I was growing more and more fond of her, but the more I did, the more uneasy I felt as to her relationship with Rex. I wondered what would happen when he left us at Sydney and we went on. She would know that as we sailed into the Pacific he was staying behind to be fêted and honored, and to work for the Company of course, while he paid attention to Helena Derringham and brought about that happy state of affairs so desired by Lady Crediton and Sir Henry Derringham: the amalgamation of the two companies.

I feared greatly for her.

One morning we woke to find that we were at the gateway of the East. The sun was streaming onto the decks and there was a great deal of noise and excitement everywhere.

Before Edward was dressed and had had his breakfast with me in my cabin Mrs. Blakey brought Johnny along. Chantel joined us. She was dressed in a simple white dress and jacket and she looked lovely, her hair not completely hidden by the shady white hat she wore. It always startled me to see her out of her nurse’s uniform, lovely as she looked in that.

“I suppose,” she said, “that you two will have to take out the children. You poor things! I’m glad that when we’re in port I have a very good chance of a few hours off duty.”

“The Captain is looking after his wife, I suppose,” said Mrs. Blakey.

“He is taking her visiting — agents and their families and so on, I believe. If she’s well enough.”

“She seems a little improved.”

“It’s the sunshine, this dry warmth is so good for her. We are going for a tour of the town.”

“We?” I asked.

“A party of us.” She was vague. Rex? I wondered. She said quickly: “You two ought to come to some arrangement. It doesn’t need two of you to look after the boys. You could take it in turns. You see what I mean, Anna, you could look after two as well as one, and leave Mrs. Blakey free sometimes. And vice versa.”

Mrs. Blakey thought it was an excellent idea, and I agreed that it was.

“We must think about it,” I said.

“Anna is the most conscientious woman in the world,” laughed Chantel.

The ship was lying some distance from the port and when we took the boys on deck they were greatly excited by the sight of young Arabs no bigger than themselves who were swimming out to the ship and begging for coins. When these were thrown into the sea they dived for them, right down to the harbor bed. The water was so clear that we could see the coins and the dark wriggling bodies as they went under.

Edward and Johnny shrieked with pleasure, and wanted to throw pennies into the water; we had some difficulty in preventing their jumping in themselves. But I was caught up in the excitement just as they were.

Miss Rundle strolled along and stood with us, watching.

“It’s begging,” she said, “nothing more.”

Her nose twitched in the unpleasant way it had, but the sun was too warm, the excitement too great for us to take much notice.

And then another voice spoke behind us.

I felt the color rise in my cheeks and I couldn’t help being aware of Miss Rundle’s observant eyes.

“Good morning, Captain.” Mrs. Blakey spoke first.

“Good morning,” I said.

Edward stood still, overawed, and I knew that the sight of his father pleased him even more than that of little Arabs diving for pennies.

“Good morning, Captain,” said Miss Rundle. “We don’t often have the pleasure of seeing you.”

“How good of you to refer to it as a pleasure. But you see I’m in charge of the ship and it’s been taking up most of my time and attention. Later when we get a run at sea I might be able to avail myself of the pleasure of your company.”

She was pleased by his remark; she tittered a little.

“Well, Captain, we shall look forward to that.”

I thought: He can charm even her.

“And is my son enjoying the trip?” he asked.

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Edward, and we all laughed.

Johnny said: “You’re a real captain, are you, sir?”

“Absolutely real,” replied Redvers. “Guaranteed not to disappear in a puff of smoke. So don’t be afraid when you see Gulli-Gulli tonight.”

“Gulli-Gulli?” cried Edward on a shrill note of excitement.

“Mystery man,” said the Captain. “You wait and see.”

“When? Why?” cried the children simultaneously.

“Tonight. I daresay you will be allowed to sit up for him.” He turned to us and smiled and my heart beat faster and I fervently hoped I didn’t betray my feelings.

“What time does this mystery man appear?” asked Mrs. Blakey.

“Half-past eight. We shan’t linger over dinner.”

“Please,” cried Edward, and then, “Gulli-Gulli. Gulli-Gulli.”

“Well, I think this once, don’t you?” I said to Mrs. Blakey.

She agreed.

The Captain said: “I wanted to see you.” He was looking straight at me and smiling and I knew I was not hiding my feelings adequately. It was ridiculous, it was unwise; it was wrong to feel like this about another woman’s husband. My only excuse was that it had happened before I knew.

He went on: “You’ll be doing a little sightseeing, I suppose. I wanted to tell you not to go unaccompanied. I’ve arranged for a conveyance for you both and the boys. The First Officer will go with you.”

“Thank you,” I said.

He bowed and left us. Edward’s eyes followed him adoringly; I wondered if mine did the same.

Miss Rundle sniffed slightly. “He has quite a reputation,” she said.

I glanced at the children and she shrugged her shoulders. I felt very angry with the woman.

It was two hours before we left the ship and set off in the company of the First Officer, who took us to the mosque where we heard the call to prayer from the high tower and went into the bazaars. I bought some white and gold slippers with pointed toes which curled up at the tips and a piece of turquoise colored silk with which I thought I might make a dress.

There were spangled scarves in lovely bright colors to be bought very cheaply and I thought one might help me to dress up for the fancy dress dance. Mrs. Blakey bought perfume of which there was a great deal for sale. It was very strong, and smelled of musk. For the boys we bought a red tarbush apiece and these they delightedly wore. We agreed though that they should have a rest in the afternoon as they were to have a late night and we returned to the ship all of us rather exhausted by the sudden change of temperature.

Chantel did not return until an hour or so before dinner.

I had gone to her cabin earlier to find it empty. I wondered where she was. I went back to my cabin and when she did come she asked me to come into her cabin to see her purchases. She had bought several bottles of the Egyptian perfume, a necklace and bracelet and swinging earrings made of gold and lapis lazuli.

“They are lovely,” I cried. “They must have cost a great deal.”

She laughed at me. And I thought: Rex has given them to her.

“Well,” she said, “you must remember that things are cheaper here than at home.”

She sat on her bed trying the various perfumes; the cabin was full of the smell of musk and flowers — not our English spring flowers with their light refreshing scents but the heavy exotic essences of the East.

“I shall go as Queen Nefertiti, I think.”

“A Queen’s a step up from a Chatelaine,” I commented.

“Nurse Loman must always be at the top. Who was Nefertiti?”

“A Queen of Egypt. I think her husband had one of her eyes put out because she was so beautiful he thought other men might covet her.”

“A pure example of masculine beastliness. I shall be Nefertiti. I’m sure she kept both eyes to the end — and she was more beautiful anyway. So … Nefertiti is my choice for the moment.”

“And Rex Crediton?” I asked.

“Oh, he’s going as a grave robber. He’ll be attired in a burnoose and have the requisite tools or whatever they used to open the graves of departed Kings and rob them of their treasures.”

“So you have been exchanging ideas?”

“Well, it’s not a masked ball this time. There’s no need for secrecy. Do try this scent, Anna. H’m. It’s strange, don’t you agree? The haunting perfume of the East. But I must get ready for dinner. Look at the time.”

I left her thinking that although she talked a great deal she told me very little — and the one thing I wanted to know was how deeply she was involved with Rex Crediton. I should, of course, have been worrying about my own reactions to the Captain. But I should never betray my feelings, I assured myself. No one will ever know.

The Egyptian conjuror known as the Gulli-Gulli man who came aboard at Port Said to entertain us with his tricks was a great success — particularly with Edward and Johnny. Chairs were arranged in a circle round a space in the middle of the lounge and the two boys sat cross-legged on the floor in the front.

The burnoose gave the conjuror the added touch of mystery in their eyes and his wide sleeves must have been a great asset in his work. He did wonders with rings and paper; but the chief trick was the sudden production of living baby chicks which he produced from the strangest places, including the pockets of the boys. He used both boys to hold his rings and papers or whatever he was working with and I doubt whether either of them had ever enjoyed anything so much.

When he put his hands into Johnny’s coat and brought out the two baby chicks, they leaped about in their excitement; and when he did the same to Edward they were rolling about with laughter and delight. With the conclusion of each trick the conjuror uttered the cry of “Gulli-Gulli”; and the boys joined in, clapping their heartfelt approval.

That night, exhausted as Edward was, it was long before he slept. The Gulli-Gulli man had left the ship and we had begun our progress down the Canal.

It was a lovely night — there was a moon and the sight of those sandy shores and the occasional palm tree through my porthole window was so alluring that I could not resist slipping out of my cabin and going onto the top deck.

It was deserted and as I leaned over the rail I wondered what Aunt Charlotte would say if she could see me now. My lips curled into a smile as I thought of her disapproval.

“Hello.”

I turned and he was standing there. The moonlight on his bronzed face seemed to make it glow. He was wearing the white dinner jacket and I could understand why Edward thought of him as a kind of super being.

“Hello,” I said rather uncertainly.

“I haven’t had much opportunity of speaking to you alone since we left England,” he replied.

“Of course not. You have the ship to look after. The passengers are another matter.”

“They are my concern too.”

“Everything on this ship is, I know. But we can be safely left to ourselves.”

“That is what we hope,” he said. “Are you enjoying the trip?”

“I should say like Edward ‘Aye aye, sir.’”

“He’s a bright little fellow,” he said.

“Very. And you are his ideal.”

“Didn’t I say he was bright?” He was flippant but somehow I sensed a seriousness in his mood. Then he said an astonishing thing: “I notice that you have become rather friendly with Dick Callum.”

“Oh yes, he has been very helpful.”

“He has more opportunities of mingling with the guests than I have. It’s the nature of our work — although when we’re in port he can be busy.”

“One just thinks of a ship sailing comfortably along, I’m afraid. One forgets that it is all due to the expert work of the Captain and his crew.”

He touched my hand lightly and briefly as it lay on the rail. “Do you miss the Queen’s House?”

“In a way.”

“I’m afraid we can’t offer you Louis Quinze settees on board.”

I laughed. “I should have been very surprised to have found them here; and in any case they would be most unsuitable. That’s the whole point about choosing furniture. The surroundings are as important as the pieces themselves.” I surprised myself by saying vehemently: “I’m glad to have got away from the Queen’s House.”

With that remark our mood changed.

He was suddenly serious. “I can understand it. I thought of you often.”

“Did you?”

“Because of that evening. It was a very pleasant evening for me. And for you?”

“And for me.”

“And then it changed suddenly, didn’t it? It was only when your aunt appeared that I realized what an exceptional evening it had been. There she stood like an avenging angel with the sword of flame. Get out of Eden, you miserable sinners.”

I laughed. “That’s carrying the simile too far, I think.”

“And then she died.”

“That was much later.”

“And there were rumors. I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned them. Perhaps it upsets you when people talk of them.”

“Not you,” I said. I no longer cared how I betrayed myself. I was happy now as I had been on that evening in the Queens House. He — and he alone — had that power to make me throw all caution to the winds.

“She died, and there was some doubt how,” he went on. “And for a while that must have been very unpleasant for you.”

“Yes,” I said. “You see it seemed so incredible that she should take her life. It was so unlike her. And then of course she was incapacitated. But for Chantel … Nurse Loman … I don’t know what would have happened. I think it might have been … horrifying.”

“People do strange things. One can never be sure of their motives. If she did not kill herself who else would have done it?”

“I’ve often thought of that. There was Ellen who desperately wanted to get married and was afraid Mr. Orfey never would marry her if she didn’t bring Aunt Charlotte’s legacy to him and she wouldn’t have that until she died, of course.”

“That seems a good enough motive.”

“But it’s so trivial and I could never see Ellen as a murderess. I could much more easily imagine Mrs. Morton as one. She was something of a mystery. There was a daughter who was ill and she longed to be with her. I knew that she was only staying with Aunt Charlotte in the hope of what she would get on her death. I never really knew Mrs. Morton in spite of all the years in the Queen’s House. Then of course there was myself — the main beneficiary who was not on the best of terms with her and who would inherit everything.”

“Which I gather was not very much.”

“I was not to know that. It was only after she died that I realized how hopelessly in debt we were.”

“I believe you were very unhappy at that time.”

“It was … horrible. People in the streets looked at me furtively, whispered about me.”

“I know,” he said.

“You know?”

“I know what it means to be under a cloud.” I stared at the land, grayish in moonlight, at the indigo sky and the myriads of stars; the air seemed scented with the faint smell of musk.

“Have you heard any rumors … concerning me?” he asked.

“What rumors? I don’t understand.”

“I thought perhaps you might. From Callum for instance. Has anyone mentioned The Secret Woman?”

“I may have heard the name of the ship but he has told me nothing about it.”

“You may well hear something,” he said, “and if you did I should like you to hear it from me.”

“It was the ship on which you sailed after …”

“Yes, after that evening when you entertained me at the Queen’s House. I want to tell you about that voyage. It was a disaster and is a mystery to this day.”

“Tell me then.”

“Callum was my purser on The Secret Woman as he is on this ship. Several members of the crew who were with me then are with me now. She was different from Serene Lady. She was a sailing ship.”

“She was also a woman,” I said.

“Odd. It seemed to make a difference. She was a beauty. What we call a barquentine made for the China trade. I was taking her out to Sydney via the Cape and then I was going on to the islands. We had a few passengers on board as we have on this one and one of these was a jewel merchant, John Fillimore. He was taking out a fine collection of diamonds and was going to look at Australian opals. He was a garrulous man who liked to talk of the deals he had made and wanted everyone to know how astute he was. And he died.”

“You mean …”

“I mean that he died. Dr. Gregory diagnosed a seizure. We had dined one evening and afterward had gone to the bar and he had taken I think a brandy or two. He drank rather much. Then he went to his cabin. Next morning when his steward went in he found him dead.”

“Dr. Gregory was on The Secret Woman too.”

“Yes, he was ship’s doctor then as now. It’s a feature of our line that we always carry a doctor. Generally it is only done when the number of passengers is considerably larger. We buried John Fillimore at sea but the diamonds were missing.”

“Did he keep them in his cabin?”

“That was where he was foolish. They were worth a fortune, he said. We had pointed out to him that he would be wise to put them in our safe, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Not, he said, while we were in port. Someone could blow the safe and make off with the diamonds. He wasn’t trusting that. He was highly suspicious and I think those suspicions were directed at some members of the crew. I remember one night when several of us were talking together — Callum and Gregory were there I believe — he said that knowing he was to sail with such a precious cargo, many practiced jewel thieves might have joined the crew for the sole purpose of robbing him. He was very conscious of his valuable stock. That night he told us gruesome stories of how his house as well as his business premises had been burgled; he said he was taking no risks with his diamonds. He never kept them in one place for more than a few days at a time. I thought he had them attached to his waist on a leather belt which he wore next to his skin. One night he was the worse for drink and had to be helped to his cabin and to bed. He was horrified the next day that someone might have seen the bag of diamonds. We used to joke about it. We all said we would be glad when we reached Sydney so that we could be rid of our highly dangerous cargo. And then he died and we buried him at sea. And the diamonds had disappeared. His cabin was turned inside out to search for them. They were nowhere to be found. If some of us hadn’t seen them we should not have believed that they existed. When we reached land the matter was reported. The whole ship was searched, but the diamonds were never found. It was the belief of everyone that they were somewhere on the ship.”

“And you never discovered?”

“They were never found,” he repeated. “But you can imagine what rumors there were. John Fillimore had died although he was only in his late thirties and had shown no signs of illness before. That was mysterious in itself — but nothing, of course, compared with the missing jewels. And there is one man who is supposed to be aware more than anyone of what goes on in his ship. You know who that is.”

“The Captain?” I said.

“Exactly. I had seen the diamonds. I had held them in my hands. I had, as some will tell you, gloated over them.”

“Had you?”

“I could never feel enthusiastic enough over a diamond to gloat.”

“They represented a lot of money.”

“That is the point. Some people believe that for money any crime may be committed.”

“It’s unfortunately true.”

“But I must tell you the rest of the story. We left Sydney for the islands.”

“Coralle?”

“Yes, Coralle. We were staying there two days and nights. There’s no real harbor there and the ship lay in the bay.”

“And your wife was there.”

“Yes, she lived there with her mother in a rather broken-down old mansion. You’ll see it when you get there. It was a feast day on the island. There were special native dances; bonfires, and all day long drums could be heard summoning people to the main town for the celebrations which were to begin at dusk. It was a colorful occasion and of course everyone wanted to be there. Since the death of John Fillimore and the suspicions which were rife there had been an uneasy atmosphere in the ship. There’s something uncanny about a ship. It seems to be a living thing — but perhaps that’s a sailor’s view. Yet The Secret Woman seemed to have changed. She was alert and uneasy. I was aware of it. There was a spirit of mutiny on board. One could not lay one’s finger on it, it was just something that a sailor feels. I almost felt that I was master of the Flying Dutchman. You know the story. I suppose every sailor does.”

“It was a ghost ship that was seen off the Cape of Good Hope in stormy weather, I believe.”

“Yes, doomed to sail the seas forever because a murder had been committed on board; there was precious metal on board and the crew was struck with plague and not allowed to enter any port. Well, there was that doomed feeling on The Secret Woman. Some said a murder had been committed, in fact it was generally believed and if we hadn’t precious metal we had the Fillimore diamonds. In the legend the crew was smitten with plague, but there was a plague of a sort on The Secret Woman. It was in their minds; and it seemed that every man on board knew that we were moving towards some climax. There was a subtle disobedience. No one exactly refused to obey orders … but how can I explain it? I was the Captain and I knew and I wished to God I had never seen John Fillimore and his diamonds. So we came into Coralle. Every man wanted to be ashore for the feast but naturally some would have to stay on board, so it was arranged that a skeleton crew would be on duty there — not more than half a dozen men — until midnight when the rest would return to the ship. I had seen the feasting before; it did not interest me. I was uneasy that night as though I knew that my ship was in danger. From the house I could see it lying there in the bay and I had a premonition that all was not well with my ship. So uneasy was I that I decided to row out and see for myself. I went down to the shore. I took one of the small rowing boats, but I had only just pulled away from the shore when there was a loud explosion and the ship broke into pieces which were flying all over the sea. People were rushing down to the shore. There was no moon, only the light of a thousand stars. I could only turn the boat and row back to the shore because I could hear the warning rumble and suspected a further explosion. I heard someone shout: ‘It’s the Captain.’”

“And the explosion was actually on The Secret Woman?”

He nodded. “It was the end of her. She was a mass of floating wreckage. Before morning was out she had sunk in the bay and on the water pieces of her floated dejectedly. I had lost my ship. You can guess what that means to a sailor. She had been entrusted to my care and I had allowed this to happen to her. I was dishonored, shamed.”

“But it was no fault of yours.”

“I don’t know what happened on the ship that night, but it was very mysterious. The strange thing was that the rest of the skeleton crew which should have been on duty were on the island. There had been some mistake about the duty sheet. An unheard of thing. But at the inquiry we never got to the bottom of it. It was one of the most mysterious parts of the whole affair.”

“It sounds,” I said, “as though there was a plot and that several people were involved in it. As though it had been arranged that there should be no one there.”

“Captain’s orders was how some people put it. I was in charge of the ship and she was left for those few hours, deserted, lying in the bay while every member of the crew, including myself, was ashore.”

“So you have no idea who had destroyed the ship?”

“I wish to God I had.”

“It’s a long time since it happened.”

“It is something which is never forgotten.” He was silent for a while then he said: “After that night when I came to the Queen’s House everything seemed to have changed. Before life had been a sort of joke. After that it ceased to be so.”

After the disaster? I wondered. After the visit to the Queen’s House?

“Before I was a careless boy. I was lucky, Rex used to say. I would get myself into difficult situations and trust to my unfailing luck to extricate me. But it had deserted me. I had learned that one could act carelessly, lightheartedly, and because of this suffer regret perhaps for the rest of one’s life. One could curse oneself for a fool — which I do constantly, I assure you. But that’s a futile occupation.”

“If you could solve the mystery, if you could discover who destroyed the ship, then you would cease to feel this regret.”

“That,” he said, “is not all.” He was silent for a while and I knew that he was referring to his disastrous marriage. Was I, as I had on another occasion, reading something into his words which was not intended?

He went on: “You see, here I am. A man in irons. Held fast by my own reckless actions.”

“But how could you have prevented this disaster?”

He did not speak; and instinctively I knew that he was not then thinking of The Secret Woman. I wondered how he had come to marry Monique. Perhaps I should discover later when I saw that “broken-down old mansion” as he called it, when I saw her in her native setting. He had acted rashly, that much he was telling me. And I could well believe. Carried away by chivalry or necessity? Surely he must have known that Monique was not the wife for him.

Did I feel I was? I asked myself cynically. And I answered myself boldly: Yes, I did. I would be the perfect wife for him. He was gay; I was serious. He was charming; I was not. I was making myself fit the case. I was a fool.

I pretended to be thinking of the ship.

I said: “You don’t give up hope of ever discovering what happened?”

“Strangely enough, I don’t. Perhaps that’s due to my nature. I was always an optimist. Rex was constantly telling me so. When I think of it I ask myself how could I possibly discover. What evidence is there? The ship is lost forever and the secret must be on the ship. If no one stole the diamonds they must have been there in which case they’ve probably been swallowed by fishes.”

“Perhaps someone did steal them?”

“Who? Callum? Gregory? One of the crew? It would not be easy to get away with such a haul. They were watched, I know. I daresay I was. Any display of sudden riches would have been investigated. No, it remains a mystery — with suspect number one the Captain. But I have told you myself. You understand why I wanted to do that.”

“Yes, I do. As I wanted to talk to you of my Aunt Charlotte’s death in case you should think …”

“I never should.”

“Nor I.”

“Ah, you see, that evening at the Queen’s House taught us something of each other.”

“Perhaps it did.”

“And now we are here. Fate, as some would say, has thrown us together.”

“I don’t like that,” I said, trying to speak lightly. “Not thrown anyway. It makes us sound like flotsam.”

“Which we certainly are not.”

We were silent for a while; I thought he was going to talk about his marriage. I half hoped, half feared he would, because I had become certain during this encounter that there was some special quality in our relationship. Desperately I wanted it to develop although I knew this was unwise. He had talked of his recklessness and that was the last quality I would apply to myself. But perhaps if my yearnings were deeply involved I was as capable of folly as anyone else.

No, I must never forget that he was married. I must never allow myself to be in a situation like this again. The warm evening air, that dark mysterious sky, the dim outlines on the nearby land — they were the backcloth of romance. He was a romantic. It was said of someone — George IV I think — that he loved all women too well to love one constantly. I kept telling myself that this might be said of Red Stretton. Hadn’t I seen even Miss Rundle brighten at the caress in his voice?

I must be strong, sensible. Who was I to fret over Chantel’s seeming recklessness with Rex, since I was equally so with his half brother.

I shivered and he said: “Are you cold?”

“No. Who could be on such a night? But it’s getting late. I think I should go to my cabin.”

He escorted me there. I went ahead of him down the narrow alley and at my door we paused.

“Good night,” he said, and his eyes were bright and eager. He was so like he had been on that magic night in the Queen’s House.

He took my hand and kissed it quickly.

A door opened and shut. Miss Rundle’s! Had she heard our voices? Had she seen us?

Reckless? I thought. I was as reckless as anyone else in love. There! I had admitted it.

13

We had spent a hot and windy afternoon in Aden and had left that rather forbidding yellow volcanic coast and were once more at sea.

Now and then I saw the Captain and he always made a point of stopping to talk to me. People were beginning to notice. Miss Rundle I was sure had spread the news that she had seen him escort me to my cabin late one night and there kiss my hand. I was aware of her special interest in me, and the cold speculation in her rabbity eyes behind the gold pince-nez.

Mrs. Blakey and I had accepted Chantel’s advice and took it in turns to take charge of the boys, which gave us more freedom. We were all feeling as though we knew each other very well indeed. The Glennings were popular; they always seemed so eager to be friendly. Their great passion was chess, and every afternoon they would find a shady side of the ship and sit there poring over the board with great concentration. Rex sometimes played a game with them, and often Gareth Glenning would take on both his wife and Rex, and I believe beat them. Rex seemed to be very friendly with them; so did Chantel. The four of them were often together.

Miss Rundle was thoroughly unpopular; her sharp nose, often a little pink at the tip even in the tropics, smelled out trouble and her glinting eyes seemed to see in everything that happened something that was shocking. She watched Rex and Chantel as eagerly — and as hopefully — as she watched my relationship with the Captain. Mrs. Greenall was quite different and it was difficult to believe that they were sisters. She talked constantly of her grandchildren whom she was going to visit and bored us all with the same stories told over and over again. Her husband was a quiet man who would listen while she talked, nodding his head as though in corroboration of the wonders performed by their grandchildren and looking sharply at us as though to make sure we appreciated their cleverness. Mrs. Malloy had formed a friendship with the Chief Officer which contented her as much as it did Miss Rundle who would inquire of any who happened to be at hand whether they did not think it rather shocking that Mrs. Malloy should appear to forget that she was going out to join her husband.

The only passenger who did not arouse Miss Rundle’s criticism was perhaps Mrs. Blakey who was so inoffensive, so eager to please not only her sister who was magnanimously giving her a home in Australia, but everyone on board.

In the evenings we sometimes played whist and the men — the Glennings, Rex and the First Officer — often had a game of poker.

So passed those lazy days and nights; and the time had come for the fancy dress dance.

The theme was the Arabian Nights; Redvers had told me that these fancy dress occasions were the highlight of the entertaining during the voyage. “We want to keep our passengers happy,” he explained, “so we try to give them plenty to relieve the monotony of long days at sea when the next port of call seems far away. They can think about their costumes for days; and then after the ball they can discuss that for a while. It’s necessary to have a happy ship.”

For me the highlights of the voyage were those brief interludes when I met him by chance and we would stand for a while chatting. I let myself fancy that he tried to prolong those occasions even as I did; and that they meant something to him.

Monique’s health had undoubtedly improved during the voyage. Chantel said it was the weather and the Captain — though the former was warmer than the latter.

“Do you know,” she said to me one day, “sometimes I think he hates her.”

“Surely not,” I had said, turning away.

“It’s the most disastrous of marriages. She tells me things sometimes when she’s drowsy with her drug. I have to drug her a little now and then. Doctor’s orders. She said the other night: ‘But I caught him. I got him in the net. He can wriggle but he’ll never get free while I live.’”

I shivered.

“My poor prudish Anna. It is shocking. But you yourself are a little shocking too. At least according to Miss Rundle. She is whispering about you no less than about me.”

“That woman would see things which are not there.”

“I’m sure she would … as clearly as she would see things that were there. I think we should beware of Madam Rundle, Anna, both of us.”

“Chantel,” I said, “how does … Rex … feel about Australia?”

“Oh, he feels it’s a country of opportunity. The branch there is flourishing as the green bay tree — and of course it will flourish even more after he has been out there for a while.”

“I meant … about leaving the ship.”

She opened her cool green eyes very wide and said: “You mean about saying goodbye to Serene Lady?”

“I mean about saying goodbye to you.”

She smiled. “It will make him a little sad, I fancy.”

“And you?”

“Perhaps myself too.”

“But … you don’t seem to care.”

“We have known all the time that he will leave the ship at Sydney. Why should we suddenly behave as though it’s a surprise?”

“You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“A particularly ridiculous cliché, Anna, and I hardly expect you to be guilty of using it. Heart on sleeve indeed! How could it be fed by the veins and arteries if it were in such an impossible position?”

“Nurses are cold blooded.”

“Our blood, my dear Anna, is at normal temperature.”

“Stop being clinical. Chantel, are you all right?”

“I have told you before. I shall always be all right.”

That was the only satisfaction I could get. But when we left Sydney, when he had really gone, would she be able to preserve this magnificent indifference?

It was the night of the ball. I had wrapped the silk I had bought in Port Said about me. I put on the white and gold slippers with the pointed turned-up toes and draped the spangled scarf over my face in the form of a yasmak.

“You look … beautiful,” Edward told me when I went into his cabin.

“Oh Edward, only in your eyes.”

“In everybody’s eyes,” he declared stoutly.

He had not been very well that day, having eaten too much that was rich the day before; the fact that he was content to lie in his bed for most of the day showed how wan he must be feeling. John had been in his cabin to keep him company and they had been painting in their books together.

As Edward had had little to eat all day I wanted him to have some milk before he settled down for the night. He said he would, so milk and biscuits were sent up to the cabin. As soon as he saw them he didn’t fancy them, and said he would have them later on when he was hungry. When I was dressed I went along to Chantel’s cabin to show her my costume to see what she thought of it. She wasn’t there, so I sat down to wait. I knew she must come soon or she would not have much time to get ready. On her bed lay a pair of Turkish trousers of green gauze and slippers such as I had bought in Port Said.

I had not been waiting long when she came in.

“Heavens, you’re all ready.”

I wondered whether she had been with Rex. I wished she would confide in me.

“I’ll be back,” I said, “when you’re dressed.”

“No, don’t go. I want you to help dress me. It’s difficult to get into those things.”

“So I’m to be your lady’s maid?”

“Like poor Valerie Stretton!”

I wished she hadn’t said that. I thought everywhere one looks something seems to be shrouded in mystery; and suddenly I remembered Chantel’s journal and how she had described Red’s mother coming in with her muddy boots and being so ill. Life was like a stream, often clear on top with murky undercurrents only visible when you peered too closely.

“What made you think of her?” I asked.

“I don’t know. She just came into my mind. Aren’t these trousers fun? I bought them in Port Said.”

“Just for this occasion?”

“I thought they would startle Miss Rundle and were worthwhile if only for that.”

She put them on. They were amazingly attractive with the slippers. Her eyes were more glittering than ever tonight. But that was her costume. She draped matching green material about her shoulders and dexterously formed it into a bodice. She looked magnificent.

“You should have a sparkling circlet about your head,” I said.

“No. In any case I haven’t one. I shall wear it loose. I think that will be more effective.”

It was quite startling.

I said: “Chantel, I think you are the loveliest woman I ever saw.”

She put her arms about me and kissed me then. I thought I saw tears in her eyes.

Then she said soberly: “Perhaps you don’t see the real me.”

“No one knows you as well as I do,” I said firmly. “No one. And no one could look as lovely if they were not … good.”

“What rubbish you talk! Perhaps you’d like me to go as a saint. Unfortunately I don’t know any Arab saints, do you?”

“You’ll be much more effective as the slave girl or whatever you’re supposed to be.”

“And I hope give delighted offense to Miss Rundle. At least we shall be colorful against all those burnooses. Is that the right plural, my learned friend?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, but will they be there in the plural?”

“You can be sure of it. I’ve made inquiries. Rex has one. Gareth Glenning has and Mr. Greenall coyly admitted to me that he had too. Mrs. G. said it was fun and would be something to tell the grandchildren. I wonder if they will talk of Grandpapa’s doings as much as he does of theirs? Ivor Gregory told me that there’s a stock of them — burnooses I mean — on the ship and that some of the crew will be wearing them. He even admits to having one himself. After all what else is there for a man to wear?”

“It’ll be like going into a souk.”

“Well, isn’t that the general idea? There! I’m complete. I think I must have a yasmak too, don’t you? You see you and I are not dissimilar although I wear the trousers.”

“We’re quite different, really. Yours is far more true to life as well as being far more lovely.”

“My dear, dear Anna, always setting yourself at a disadvantage. Do you know that the world takes you at your own valuation? I can see I shall have to give you a few lessons in life.”

“I get them every day. And are you sure that you would be such a good teacher?”

“I need notice of that cryptic remark,” she said. “And time marches on.”

“I am just going back to the cabin to tuck up Edward for the night.”

She came with me. Edward was sitting on the lower bunk turning over the pages of his painting book.

He gave a little shriek of pleasure when he saw Chantel.

“You’re wearing trousers,” he accused.

“I’m a lady of the East so naturally I do.”

“I’d like to paint them,” he said.

“You shall make a picture of me in the morning,” she promised.

I noticed how sleepy he was.

I said: “Edward, let me tuck you in before I go down.”

“He hasn’t finished his milk and biscuits yet,” said Chantel.

“In a minute,” said Edward.

“Drink it up,” suggested Chantel, “and then poor Anna can go down with a good conscience.”

“Hasn’t she got a good one now?”

“Of course she has. People like Anna always have good consciences.”

“Do you?”

“Now that’s another matter.” She took up the glass of milk and sipped it. “Delicious,” she said.

He held out his hand for it and started to drink.

“Have a biscuit with it,” I said; but he did not want to eat.

He finished the milk and Chantel said: “Wouldn’t you like to be tucked in and kissed goodnight by a Turkish slave?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Well get in and I’ll oblige.”

He giggled; Chantel could charm him and I believe that he was as fond of her as he was of me … in a different way of course. I represented a certain solidity; she amused him, and who does not like to be amused?

She tucked him in and kissed him.

“You are sleepy tonight,” she said.

And he yawned again.

I was glad that he was so ready for sleep; and Chantel and I left the cabin together.

The lounge had been decorated for the occasion; someone — the First Officer, Mrs. Malloy whispered to me — had stuck Arabic signs on the walls, and the place was in semidarkness. All the men seemed to have chosen the burnoose; and the lounge certainly did have the appearance of a Middle East street. One of the officers played the piano for dancing. Mrs. Malloy danced with the First Officer and Chantel with the doctor. There would be a shortage of women so I supposed everyone would find a partner — even Miss Rundle.

I looked for Redvers, but he was not there. I should have known him anywhere even if he were in fancy dress, which he would not be. He had told me that the Captain could not dress up; he had to be ready for duty at any moment. I was surprised that the doctor and the First Officer should have appeared as they did.

But it was not the Captain who was inviting me to dance but Dick Callum.

I was not an expert dancer and apologized to him.

“You’re too modest,” he told me.

“I see you are in regulation dress,” I told him, indicating his burnoose.

“We’re an unimaginative lot, we men,” he said. “There are only two beggars howling for baksheesh and two fellaheens, and a few sporting the tarbush. The rest of us merely put on this robe and leave it at that.”

“They’re so easy to come by, I suppose. Did you buy yours in Port Said?”

He shook his head. “Whenever we make this trip we have our Arabian Nights Fantasy. There seems to be a stock of the things on board.”

“I daresay you get a little blasé doing this sort of thing regularly.”

“It’s always a pleasure to be with those who are not. It’s hot in here. Would you like to sit down for a while?”

I said I would and we slipped out onto the deck.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” he said. “There’s something I wanted to say, but I hardly know how to.”

“You’re not usually at a loss for words.”

“That’s true. But this is … delicate.”

“Now you are making me very curious.”

“You’ll probably hate me.”

“I can’t imagine myself doing that in any circumstances.”

“What a comforting person you are. I’m not surprised the Captain’s son adores you.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration. He has a mild respect for me. It doesn’t go beyond that. But tell me what it is you want to say.”

“You promise to forgive me before I begin.”

“Oh dear, you’re making me feel it’s something terrifying.”

“I don’t think it is … yet. Well, here goes. It’s about the Captain.”

“Oh.”

“I have offended you.”

“How could you when I don’t know what you are going to say?”

“Can you guess?”

I could but I said: “No.”

“You see, I’ve sailed with him, often. You know the saying about sailors having wives in every port. Sometimes it’s true.”

“Are you accusing the Captain of bigamy?”

“I believe he has only gone through the ceremony once.”

“Then … what?”

“Anna — may I call you Anna? We know each other well enough, don’t we?”

I inclined my head.

“Then, Anna, he has a reputation of being something of a philanderer. On every voyage he selects a passenger to whom he pays special attention. On this voyage he has selected you.”

“I had met him before, you know. We were not entirely strangers.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It’s only out of my concern.”

“I’m not very young. I can take care of myself.”

He seemed relieved. “I should have known you recognized him for what he is.”

“What … is he?”

“A man of casual affairs.”

“Really?”

“He never thought he would get caught as he did. But they were too much even for him — the girl’s mother and her old nurse. She was going to have a child and they called forth all their black magic. They’d put a curse on him and every ship he commanded unless he married her.”

“Are you telling me that he would marry for such a reason?”

“He had to. Sailors are the most superstitious men on earth. None of them would have sailed with a master who had been cursed. They would have known it, too. He had no alternative. So he married the girl.”

“It seems a little far-fetched.”

“Life often is not as simple as it seems.”

“But to marry because of a curse!”

“He owed her marriage in any case.”

“Perhaps that was the reason he married her.”

Dick laughed. “But you see, don’t you, why I am concerned for you?”

“You have been jumping to conclusions. Perhaps they have been suggested by Miss Rundle?”

“That old gossip. I wouldn’t accept anything she told me. But this is different. This concerns you, and anything that concerns you is of great importance to me.”

I was startled, but my thoughts were too occupied with Redvers for me to give much attention to Dick Callum’s hints.

“You are kind,” I said, “to concern yourself over me.”

“It’s not a matter of kindness but of inability to do otherwise.”

“Thank you. But do please stop worrying about me. I can’t really see why you should be anxious because now and then I have had a word with the Captain.”

“As long as you understand … I fear, I’m making a mess of this. If you ever needed my help would you let me give it?”

“You talk as though I should be doing you a favor by letting you, when it is I who should thank you. I’d willingly accept your help if I needed it.”

He put his hand over mine and squeezed it.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s a promise. I’ll keep you to it.” I thought he was about to say more, so I said quickly: “Shall we go and dance?” We were dancing when we heard the shrieks from the lower deck. The piano stopped abruptly. It was a child’s voice. I immediately thought of Edward and then I knew at once that it was not Edward but Johnny Malloy.

We ran down to the lower deck. Others had already arrived before us. Johnny was shouting at the top of his voice: “It was the Gulli-Gulli man. I saw him. I saw him.”

My first thought was: The child has had a nightmare. But then I saw something else. Lying on the deck, fast asleep, was Edward.

Ivor Gregory had come out and picked up Edward. Johnny went on shouting: “I saw him I tell you. He was carrying Edward. And I followed him and I shouted ‘Gulli-Gulli, wait for me!’ And Gulli-Gulli put Edward down and ran away.”

It sounded crazy. I went to the doctor who looked at me steadily and said: “I’ll get him back to his cabin.”

I nodded and went with him. I saw Mrs. Malloy running to Johnny demanding to know what he was doing out there and what all the fuss was about.

Dr. Gregory laid Edward gently on his bed and bent over him; he lifted his eyelids and looked at his eyes.

I said: “He’s not ill, is he?”

The doctor shook his head and looked puzzled.

“What on earth could have happened?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer. He said: “I think I’ll take the child along to the sick bay. I’ll keep him there for a bit.”

“Then he is ill?”

“No … no. But I’ll take him.”

“I don’t understand what could possibly have happened.”

He had thrown off his burnoose when he laid down the child; when he went out I noticed it lying on the floor.

I picked it up. There was a faint odor of musk about it, the perfume several people had bought in the bazaar. It was so strong and pungent that it seemed to cling to anything that came near it.

I dropped the thing and went out on deck. Johnny had been taken to his cabin by his mother and Mrs. Blakey. Everyone was talking about the incident. What on earth had happened? How had the sleeping child got out there? And what was this wild story about a Gulli-Gulli man carrying him along the deck and putting him down when Johnny called?

“It’s some prank,” said Chantel. “We were having fun, so they thought they would, too.”

“But how did the child get out?” asked Rex, who was standing close to Chantel.

“He came out and feigned sleep. That’s easily explained.”

“The doctor didn’t seem to think he was awake,” I put in.

“That’s nonsense,” said Chantel. “He wouldn’t have walked out in his sleep would he? But perhaps he did. I’ve had patients who did the oddest things when asleep.”

Miss Rundle was well to the fore. “All this talk about the Gulli-Gulli man. Pure fabrication! They should be whipped both of them.”

Claire Glenning said softly: “I imagine it was just a bit of fun. We don’t want to make too much of it.”

“Still, it gave some of us a fright,” put in Chantel. “I suppose that’s what they wanted to do.”

“A storm in a teacup,” said Gareth Glenning.

“All the same,” Miss Rundle announced, “children have to be taught discipline.”

“What do you want to do?” asked Rex. “Clap them into irons?”

Rex had set the tone as he so often did. Quiet as he was, no one ever forgot that he was that Rex Crediton, industrialist, financier, millionaire — or he would be on the death of his mother. His gravity, dignity and almost self-effacing manner implied that he did not have to call attention to his personality. It was enough that he was Rex, if not yet ruler he would be in due course — of the great Crediton kingdom.

“On with the dance!” he said, and he was looking at Chantel.

So we went back to the lounge and we danced, but it was impossible to forget that strange scene on the lower deck and though we did not continue to talk of it, I was sure it was still in our minds.

I left early; and when I reached my cabin it was to find a note from Dr. Gregory on my dressing table. He was keeping the child in the sick bay for the night.

Early the next morning one of the stewards came to tell me that the doctor would like to see me.

I went along to his quarters in some alarm.

“Where’s Edward?” I asked.

“He’s in bed still. He’s been a little sick … nothing to worry about. He’ll be perfectly well by midday.”

“You’re keeping him here?”

“Only until he gets up. He’s all right … now.”

“But what happened?”

“Miss Brett, this is rather grave. The child was drugged last night.”

“Drugged!”

The doctor nodded. “That story Johnny told … he wasn’t imagining it. Someone must have gone to the cabin and carried the child out.”

“But whatever for?”

“I don’t understand it. I’ve questioned Johnny. He said that he couldn’t go to sleep because he was thinking about all the dancing and the costumes. He had drawn a picture of his mother and he wanted to show it to Edward, so he put on his dressing gown and slippers and came out to look for him. He lost his way and was trying to find his bearings when he saw what he calls the Gulli-Gulli man hurrying along carrying Edward.”

“The Gulli-Gulli man. But he came on at Port Said and left.”

“He means he saw someone in a burnoose.”

“Who?”

“Almost every man on board was wearing one last night, Miss Brett.”

“But who could have been carrying Edward?”

“That’s what I should like to know. And who drugged the child beforehand?”

I had turned pale. The doctor’s eyes were on my face as though he thought that I was responsible.

“I can’t believe it,” I said.

“It seems incredible.”

“How could he have been drugged?”

“Easily. Sleeping tablets dissolved in water … milk …”

“Milk!” I echoed.

“Two ordinary sleeping tablets would have sent a child into deep unconsciousness. Did you have any sleeping pills, Miss Brett?”

“No. I daresay his mother has. But she would not …”

“It would be the easiest thing in the world for anyone who wanted to get hold of sleeping tablets to do so. The mystery is … with what object?”

“To drug the child so that he did not give the alarm when he was picked up, to carry him out to the deck. For what purpose? To throw him overboard?”

“Miss Brett!”

“But what else?” I asked.

“Such an idea seems quite preposterous,” he said.

We were silent for a while. And I thought: Yes, of course it is preposterous. Am I suggesting that someone was trying to murder Edward?

I heard myself say in a voice that was high pitched and unnatural: “What are you going to do?”

“I think the less this is talked of the better. It will be exaggerated. Heaven knows what will be said. At the moment most of them believe that it was a game the boys were playing.”

“But Johnny will insist he saw someone whom he called the Gulli-Gulli man.”

“They will believe he imagined it.”

“But they know that Edward was unconscious.”

“They’ll think he was pretending.”

I shook my head. “It’s horrible,” I said.

He agreed with me. Then he started to ask me questions. I remembered how the milk had come up, how he had not wanted it, how I had gone out to Chantel’s cabin, and how she had come back with me, and had even tasted the milk when she had cajoled him to drink it.

“I’ll ask her if she tasted anything odd.”

“She would have said if she had.”

“You can’t throw any light on this mysterious matter?”

I said I couldn’t.

I went back to my cabin feeling very uneasy.

I wanted to talk to Redvers. I knew that Dr. Gregory would report to him, and I wondered what his reaction would be when he knew that someone had tried to murder his son. Murder was a strong word. But for what other purpose could the child have been drugged?

The doctor did not want anyone to know of it. Perhaps he would keep it secret from most of the ship’s passengers, but I as his governess must know, and Redvers as his father must; besides as Captain of the ship he must know everything that happened on board.

I would go up to his cabin now and talk to him. I must.

There was a knock on my door and Chantel’s voice said: “May I come in?”

“How’s our nocturnal adventurer this morning?” she asked.

“He’s in the sick bay.”

“Good heavens!”

“He’s all right. Chantel, the doctor doesn’t want this to get about but he was drugged last night.”

“Drugged! How?”

“Why is perhaps more important. Oh, Chantel, I’m afraid.”

“Surely no one meant the boy any harm?”

“But why drug him and carry him out? If it hadn’t been for Johnny what do you think might have happened?”

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

“I think someone was trying to kill Edward. He could have been thrown overboard. No one would have heard anything. The child was unconscious. Perhaps a slipper left by the rail. It would have been presumed he had wandered out and fallen overboard. Don’t you see?”

“Now that you put it like that, yes. The easiest place to commit a murder must be at sea. But whatever for? What possible motive?”

“I can’t think of one.”

“This will get Miss Rundle working overtime.”

“Dr. Gregory thinks it should be kept quiet. It would upset Edward terribly if he thought he was in danger. He knows nothing about it. He must not know.”

“And Johnny?”

“We’ll find some way of dealing with him. After all he had no right to be wandering about at night so he’s in disgrace for that. Thank God he did.”

“Anna, aren’t you dramatizing all this? It could well have been a joke that misfired.”

“What joke?”

“I don’t know. It was after all a special night and we all felt very merry in our Eastern costumes. Perhaps one of our disguised Arabs had too much to drink or had some plan that went wrong.”

“But the boy was drugged, Chantel. I’m going to see the Captain.”

“What, now?”

“Yes. I think he may be in his cabin at this hour. I want to talk to him. I shall have to take special precautions for the rest of the voyage.”

“Dear Anna, you’re taking this too seriously.”

“He is my charge. Wouldn’t you feel the same responsibility if your patient were involved?”

She admitted this and I left her looking dubious. As I climbed to the bridge and the Captain’s quarters I did not stop to think that I might be behaving in an unconventional manner. I could only think of someone’s drugging the child and earning him out, and what might have happened but for Johnny Malloy.

I reached the top of the stairs and was at the Captain’s door. I knocked and to my relief it was his voice that bade me enter.

He was seated at a table with papers before him.

He stood up and said: “Anna!” as I entered.

His cabin was large and filled with sunshine. There were pictures of ships on the walls and on a cabinet a model of one in bronze.

“I had to come,” I said.

“About the child?” he asked; and I knew that he had already heard. “I don’t understand it,” I told him. “And I feel very uneasy.”

“I talked with the doctor earlier this morning. Edward had been given a sleeping tablet.”

“I can’t understand it at all. I hope you don’t think that I …”

“My dear Anna, of course I don’t. I trust you absolutely with him. But can you throw any light on this? Have you any idea?”

“None. Chantel … Nurse Loman thinks it was some joker.”

He looked relieved. “Is it possible?”

“It’s so pointless. Why drug the child? It must have been solely because whoever did it did not want him to know’ who was earning him. It seems a great length to go to for a joke. A terrible suspicion has come to me. What if someone were trying to murder Edward?”

“Murder the child? For what reason?”

“I thought … you might know. Could there possibly be any reason?”

He looked astounded. “I can think of none. And Edward?”

“He doesn’t know anything about it. And he mustn’t. I don’t know what effect it would have on him. I must be more vigilant. I should have been in the cabin, not at the dance. I should have watched over him by night as well as day.”

“You are not blaming yourself, Anna? You mustn’t do that. He was asleep in his cabin. Who would have dreamed that any harm could come to him there?”

“Yet someone put the sleeping tablet into his milk. Who could have done that?”

“Several people might have done it. Someone in the galleys … someone when it was being brought up. It might have been treated before it was handed to you.”

“But why … why?”

“It may not be as you think. He may have found the tablets in his mother’s room and thought they were sweets.”

“He hadn’t been there. He had been a bit seedy all day and had slept most of the time.”

“He might have got them at any time. That’s the most plausible answer. He found the tablets in his mother’s room, put them in his pockets thinking they were sweets, and ate them that night.”

“And the man whom Johnny saw carrying him?”

“He might have come out on his own before the tablets had had their effect. It’s possible that the two boys were on deck for some time and Edward suddenly began to feel sleepy. Seeing him lying there fast asleep Johnny didn’t know what to do so he invented the Gulli-Gulli man story to get them out of a scrape.”

“It’s the most likely explanation so far, and the most comfortable one. I had to talk to you. I had to.”

“I know,” he said.

“I shouldn’t have come here … disturbing you. It’s most unethical I’m sure.”

He laughed: “My only answer to that is that I’m delighted to see you at any time.”

The door had opened so silently that we were not aware of this until a strident laugh rang through the cabin.

“So I have caught you!”

It was Monique. She looked wild, with her hair half up, half down; she was clutching a red silk kimono about her on which was painted a golden dragon. I could hear the faint gasp as she struggled for her breath.

“Come and sit down, Monique,” said Redvers.

“And join in your tête-à-tête? Make it all cozy, eh? No, I will not sit down. I will tell you this. I will not have it. I will not. Ever since she came into the Castle she has been trying to take you from me. What will she do next, I wonder? I am watching her. I will have her know that you are married … married to me. She may not like it … you may not like it … but it is true, and nothing will alter that.”

“Monique,” he said gently, “Monique.”

“You are my husband. I am your wife. Nothing will change it while I live. Nothing will change it.”

I said: “I will call Nurse Loman.”

Redvers nodded and going to Monique tried to lead her into his bedroom, but she thrashed about wildly and began to shout more loudly, but the more she shouted the more difficult it was for her to breathe.

I ran down to the cabin. Chantel was just coming out.

“Oh Chantel, there’s a fearful scene. I think Mrs. Stretton is going to be very ill.”

“Where is she?” asked Chantel.

“In the Captain’s cabin.”

“Heaven help us,” she groaned, and seizing the case in which she kept her things she hurried off.

I wanted to follow her, but I knew that was unwise. It was the sight of me that had started the trouble.

I went back to my cabin and sat down uneasily, wondering what would happen next.

14

Monique was very ill, so ill that the nocturnal episode involving the two boys was forgotten. Chantel was constantly up in the Captain’s quarters attending to her. It was the general opinion that the Captain’s wife was on the point of death.

Edward had completely recovered. We told him nothing about his adventure. He merely believed that he had eaten something that had not agreed with him and that it had made him very sleepy as well as sick. He was very excited to have been in the sick bay which gave him a decided advantage over Johnny. As for Johnny he was reprimanded very severely by his mother — of whom he was in great awe — and told that his wisest plan was to forget the whole affair. It was some sort of joke connected with the Arabian Nights’ party and as he had no right to have been there, it could mean that the decision to let him go unpunished might have to be reconsidered. His best plan was, therefore, to forget all about it as quickly as possible.

Besides Edward had a further importance. His mother was very ill.

The atmosphere of the ship had changed. People had changed towards me.

It was inevitable that the fact of Monique’s becoming so ill when she had discovered me in the Captain’s cabin should be common knowledge. Miss Rundle had seized on the information like a jackdaw on a glittering stone. She embellished and garnished in her usual manner and served it up with the special Rundle flair for making the most of juicy titbits.

The discovery of a woman in his cabin had brought on the attack. Poor woman, she had a great deal to put up with. The tales she had heard of that Captain! Miss Rundle didn’t know what the world was coming to. Even among such a small company of passengers there was Nurse Loman far too often in the company of Mr. Rex Crediton and she wondered if the scheming creature hoped to catch him. (What a hope! Miss Rundle had it on good authority that he was all but engaged to the daughter of another shipping magnate.) There was Mrs. Malloy constantly in the company of the First Officer and she with a husband in Australia and he with a wife and two children in Southampton. (This was gospel truth because when Mr. Greenall had shown him a picture of the grandchildren in England, which he was taking out to show the grandchildren in Australia, the First Officer had been trapped into confessing that he was the father of two children himself.) But all this paled against the scandal of that “governess creature” being discovered in the Captain’s cabin by his wife, which had so upset her (poor thing and no wonder!) that she was brought to the point of death. No, she didn’t know what the world was coming to, and with such a Captain what could one expect?

It was certainly unpleasant.

Chantel tried to comfort me. When she came down from the Captain’s quarters she invited me into her cabin. Edward was with Johnny in the charge of Mrs. Blakey; but I was never happy at such times. I felt that I should watch over him always and although Mrs. Blakey was conscientious, I never liked him out of my sight. On the other hand I was afraid of showing my fear and communicating it to him.

“She’s not as ill as she appears to be,” said Chantel. “These attacks terrify people who see them, and they’re awful for the patient. It’s the gasping for breath. But she’ll be all right in a day or so.”

“I do hope so.”

“My poor Anna.” She began to laugh. “You must admit the thought of you as the femme fatale is amusing. But the Captain, I do believe, is as Edith would have said ‘a little gone on you.’”

“Chantel!”

“It’s true. There’s a look in his eyes when he speaks to you. And you too, my dear. Well, of course you did build up an image of him all those years ago. You’re a romantic, Anna. I’ll tell you something else. Dick Callum is rather taken with you too.”

“He’s been very kind to me.”

“But of course you prefer the romantic Captain. Well, he’s not free, but he might be one day. She could go off any day in one of those attacks, and then there’s the lung trouble.”

“Oh Chantel, please don’t talk like that.”

“I never thought, Anna, that you would be one to shy away from the truth.”

“This is all so … so … disturbing.”

Her face was almost mischievous suddenly. “Do you wish you had never come? Do you wish you had gone to that antique dealer to be of assistance for a small remuneration. You’d never have found him … or her … in any case. It’s fate. The way it all worked out. My coming to the Queen’s House, my going to the Castle, and bringing you in. Fate … with a little assistance from Nurse Loman.”

“I didn’t say I wished I hadn’t come.”

“A crowded hour of glorious life

Is worth an age without …”

“… something. I forget which but Wordsworth knew.”

“Attributed to Scott, but it’s by no means certain that he was the author, and it was a name which doesn’t really apply, does it?”

“Trust you to know. But the sentiment is the same. I’d rather have my brief gaudy hour (and there’s another one for you) than live out my drab unexciting days without danger and without fun either.”

“It depends,” I said.

“At least I’ve given you something to cogitate about and have taken your mind from that beastly Miss Rundle. But don’t fret. In a few days our Captain’s wife will be on her feet again. I shall bring her down here as soon as I can so that I can keep my eyes on her and give the poor Captain a rest from her. She’s a fearful trial to him, I believe. But at sea the high drama of one day is forgotten the next. Look how we’ve all recovered from the Edward-Johnny incident It’s scarcely ever mentioned now.”

So once more she had comforted me.

I said suddenly: “Whatever happens, Chantel, I hope that we shall always be together.”

“I’ll arrange it,” she said. “Fate may take a hand — but you can safely leave it to me.”

Chantel was right. In a few days Monique was as well as she had been when she first came on board. She returned to her cabin next to Chantel and everyone ceased to talk of her imminent death.

Occasionally she sat on deck. Chantel would bring her out and sit with her. Edward would be with them sometimes, to be petted or ignored according to her mood. This he accepted philosophically.

She ignored me, although at times I would find those beautiful dark eyes fixed on me, and it seemed with amusement. I wondered whether she would dismiss me when we reached her home. I mentioned this to Chantel but she said this would not be the case. It was for us to decide whether we should return home or stay. Hadn’t Lady Crediton said so? I was too good with Edward for Monique to want to get rid of me, and there was no malice in Monique. She made scenes because she liked them, and she would be especially grateful to those who gave her cause to do so and I, because of the Captain’s penchant, was in this category.

This seemed to be the case, for one day she asked me to sit beside her on deck and she said, “I hope you don’t take the Captain seriously. He likes women you know. He’s gallant to them all.”

I didn’t know what to reply to that so I stammered that I thought there had been a misunderstanding.

“It was the same when we came over to England. There was a young woman on the ship. She was rather like you. Rather quiet … what is the word … homely. He likes that. It makes him feel so good to be kind to those who must rather specially appreciate his kindness.”

“I’m sure,” I said with some asperity, “we are all very grateful to him, the more so for being unused to such attention.”

She laughed. Chantel told me afterward that she had said she liked me. I had such an odd way of talking which amused her. She understood why the Captain had selected me for his attentions this voyage.

“You see,” said Chantel, “you should not let the gossips worry you. Monique is not like a conventional English woman. I doubt whether Island morals are like those of a Victorian drawing room. She gets angry because she’s passionately in love with her Captain and his indifference maddens her at times. But she likes to see him admired by others.”

“I find it all rather bewildering.”

“It’s your habit of taking everything too seriously.”

“Serious matters should surely be taken seriously.”

“I am not sure.”

“Chantel, there’s not much time left. Everything has changed suddenly. There seems to be an atmosphere of … doom. I’ve felt it since that night when Edward was taken from his cabin.”

“Doom!” she cried.

“Well, I can’t forget what happened. I can’t get out of my mind the fact that someone was trying to kill him.”

“There must be another explanation.”

“The Captain thinks that he found his mother’s sleeping tablets and thought they were sweets.”

“Very likely. He’s an inquisitive young man — always probing here and there. ‘What’s this?’ ‘What’s that?’ And Mamma’s room is an Aladdin’s cave to him.”

“If he and Johnny went out on deck perhaps to peep at the dancing from some place, and he fell asleep and Johnny invented his Gulli-Gulli man …”

“Of course. That’s the explanation. It fits perfectly. When you come to consider it, it’s the only explanation.”

“I wish I could be sure.”

“I feel perfectly sure. So much for your doom. I’m surprised at you, Anna. And you the practical, sensible one!”

“All the same I intend to watch over that child every minute he’s in my care. I shall lock the cabin door at night.”

“And where is he now?”

“In Mrs. Blakey’s care, with Johnny. She feels the same because you see Johnny should never have been allowed to get out. We now lock the cabin doors in the evenings when they’re in bed.”

“That will put a stop to their nightly prowls. Well, we shall soon be saying goodbye to Johnny and his mother and aunt.”

I looked at her sharply. And Rex too, I thought. Did she really care for him? Sometimes I thought she hid things from me.

How could she contemplate losing him when we docked in Sydney and be so indifferent? He would be greeted by the Derringhams and caught up in a whirl of business and social activities. Poor Chantel, her position was as hopeless as my own. But it need not have been. If Rex defied his mother, if he asked Chantel to marry him, they could be happy. He was free.

But I sensed a weakness in him. He was attractive it was true; he had the sort of easygoing charm which Red possessed to a much greater extent. To me he seemed like a pale shadow of his half brother.

But Rex had defied his mother when he had failed to propose to Helena Derringham. How far, I wondered, would he carry that defiance? I wished Chantel would confide in me concerning her feelings for him. But of course I had not confided my true feelings to her. The fact was that I refused to consider them. How could I admit that I desperately loved a man who was married to another woman? I dared not.

We must keep our secrets even from each other.

The heat was intense in Bombay. Monique’s breathing became difficult and Chantel had to cancel her trip ashore. The Captain had business in Bombay and was entertained by some of the company’s agents; he took Edward with him.

Mrs. Malloy told me that the First Officer and the purser had suggested she and I accompany them on a tour of exploration. Mrs. Blakey was taking care of Johnny and was going with the Greenalls and Miss Rundle.

I accepted the invitation and we rode out in an open carriage, Mrs. Malloy and I shaded from the hot sun by big hats and parasols.

It was a strange experience for me and my thoughts traveled back to the day long ago when I had lived here with my parents. When we saw the women washing their clothes in the river, and wandered through the markets looking at the ivory and brass, the silk and the carpets, I was taken right back to the days of childhood. We passed the cemetery on Malabar Hill and I looked for the vultures.

I told Dick Callum of my memories and he was very interested. Mrs. Malloy and the First Officer listened politely; they were more interested in each other.

We stopped by the roadside near a teahouse and we wandered off separately, Dick Callum and myself, and Mrs. Malloy and the First Officer. Outside the teahouse traders had their wares spread out — beautiful silk shawls, exquisite lace mats and tablecloths, ebony elephants with gleaming white tusks.

They called to us in their soft voices to buy and we paused and looked. I bought a tablecloth which I thought I would send home to Ellen and a little elephant for Mrs. Buckle.

I admired a beautiful white silk shawl with the beautiful blue and silver embroidery. Dick Callum bought it.

“It seems such a shame to disappoint them,” he said.

It was cooler in the teahouse; and a wizened old man came to the tables with lovely peacock feather fans for sale. Dick bought one for me.

As we sipped the tea which was most refreshing he said: “What is going to happen when we reach Coralle?”

“It’s some time yet.”

“Two weeks or so out from Sydney.”

“But we haven’t reached Sydney yet.”

“Shall you stay there?”

“I feel my fate is in the balance. Lady Crediton made the position clear. If I am not approved of, or if I wish to return I shall be brought to England at the Company’s expense. The same applies to Nurse Loman.”

“You are very great friends, you two.”

“I can’t imagine being without her now, although a few years ago I hadn’t met her. But we have become so close, like sisters, and sometimes I feel I’ve known her all my life.”

“She’s a very attractive young woman.”

“I don’t think I have ever seen a more attractive one.”

“I have,” he said, looking at me earnestly.

“I can’t believe it.” I spoke lightly.

“Would you like me to go on?”

“I don’t think you should because I shan’t believe you.”

“But if I think so …”

“Then you are misled.”

“I can’t imagine what it will be like on Serene Lady once we have left you behind. Sailors do have friends ashore.”

“Then we’ll be friends.”

“That’s a comfort. I want to ask you something. Will you marry me?”

I picked up my peacock feather fan. I was suddenly so hot. “You … you can’t mean that?”

“But I do.”

“You … but … you hardly know me.”

“I have known you since we left England.”

“That is not really very long.”

“But on a ship one gets to know people quickly. It is like living in one house. It’s different from being ashore. In any case, does it matter?”

“It matters very much. One should thoroughly know the person one marries.”

“Does one ever thoroughly know another person? In any case, I know enough to have made up my mind.”

“Then you have been … rather hasty.”

“I am never hasty. I have thought, Anna is the one for me. She is handsome, clever, kind, and good. She is reliable. I think that is the quality I prize most.”

This was my first proposal although I was twenty-eight years old. It was not as I had dreamed — in those long ago days when I had imagined someone’s proposing to me. This was a calm assessment of my virtues, the greatest of which was my reliability.

“I have spoken too soon,” he said.

“Perhaps you should not have spoken at all.”

“Do you mean the answer is ‘no,’ then?”

“The answer must be no,” I said.

“Just now. I accept that. It could change.”

“I like you very much,” I said. “You have been very kind to me. I am sure you are as … reliable as you think I am; but I don’t believe that to be a strong enough foundation for marriage.”

“There are other reasons. I’m in love with you, of course. I can’t express myself as well as some. I’m not like our gallant Captain who would I am sure make the most impassioned speeches … and act accordingly … and not mean half he said.”

I looked at him sharply. “Why do you dislike him so much?” I demanded.

“Perhaps because I sense you like him too much. Anna, stop thinking of him. Don’t let him treat you as he has others.”

“Others?” I said hoarsely.

“My God, you don’t imagine you’re the only one. Look at his wife. The way he treats her.”

“He … he is also courteous to her.”

“Courteous! He was born courteous. It’s part of the charm. Charm! It’s given him a place in the Castle. A place in the company. He’s got charm … as his mother had before him. That’s why she became Sir Edward’s mistress. And our Captain can go his carefree way. He can be caught up in such a scandal that would have ruined any other man, but his charm … his eternal charm comes to his rescue.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve heard of The Secret Woman. Or if you haven’t you should. There was a fortune on that ship. One hundred thousand pounds, they say … all in diamonds. And what happened to them? What happened to the merchant? He died on board. He was buried at sea. I was there when they lowered his coffin into the water. The Captain took the service. Poor John Fillimore, who died so suddenly. And his diamonds? What happened to them? Nobody knew. But the ship was blown up in Coralle Bay.”

I had stood up. “I don’t want to listen to this.”

“Sit down,” he commanded, and I obeyed him. I was fascinated by the change in him; he was vehement in his hatred of the Captain; he really believed that Redvers had murdered John Fillimore and stolen his diamonds.

“I must talk to you, Anna,” he went on, “and the reason is that I love you. I have to save you. You’re in danger.”

“Danger?”

“I know the signs. I’ve sailed with him before. He has a way with women which I don’t possess. I don’t deny it. He will deceive you as he did that poor wife of his although he didn’t escape entirely. He’s a buccaneer if ever there was one. Two hundred years ago piracy would have been his trade. He’d be sailing under the Jolly Roger. No highjacking on the high seas for him now; but when he sees a fortune of a hundred thousand pounds within his grasp he can’t let it go.”

“Do you realize that you are talking about your Captain?”

“On board I obey his orders, but I am not on board now. I am talking to the woman I am going to marry and I want to speak the truth to her. Where are those diamonds? It’s clear to me. It’s clear to many, but it can’t be proved of course. They are hidden away in the safe deposit on some foreign port. They are his fortune salted away for when it will be safe to realize it. It’s not easy to dispose of diamonds you know. They’re recognizable, so he has to be careful. But he’ll manage it. His fortune is waiting for him. He has to have a fortune of his own, doesn’t he?”

“This is the wildest conjecture.”

“I have evidence to support it.”

“Then I suggest you lay it before the Captain.”

“My dear, dear Anna, you don’t know our Captain. He would have the answer. He always has the answers. Didn’t he conveniently dispose of the ship … the scene of the crime. The Captain who lost his ship! How many captains would have lived that down? Anyone else would have been dismissed, disgraced and living on a far distant island somewhere in the Pacific, like Coralle itself. But of course he would have his fortune in diamonds so he would still be a rich man.”

“You have surprised me twice today,” I said. “First by your declaration of love for me and secondly by your declaration of hatred toward the Captain. And I notice that you are more vehement in your expression of hate than of love.”

He leaned toward me; his anger had brought hot color to his face; even the whites of his eyes were faintly tinged with red.

“Don’t you understand,” he said, “the two are one. It is because I love you so deeply that I hate him so much. It is because he is too interested in you … and you in him.”

“You misjudge me,” I said. “I am surprised since you claim to know me so well.”

“I know that you would never act … dishonorably.”

“So I have another virtue to set beside my reliability.”

“Anna, forgive me. I have allowed my feelings to get the better of me.”

“Let’s go. Our hour must be up.”

“Just like that! Have you no word for me?”

“I don’t care to hear you make accusations for which you have no proof.”

“I’ll get proof,” he said. “By God, I’ll get proof.”

I had stood up. “You’ll change,” he went on. “You’ll understand and when you do I shall speak to you again. At least tell me that you won’t object to that.”

“I should object very much to losing your friendship,” I said.

“What a fool I am! I shouldn’t have spoken yet. Never mind, everything is as it was before. I don’t give up easily, you know.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“If you need my help at any time … I shall be at hand.”

“That is comforting to know.”

“And you don’t dislike me?”

“I don’t suppose a woman ever really disliked a man for telling her he loved her.”

“Anna. I wish I could tell you everything that is in my mind.”

“You have told me quite a bit to be getting on with,” I reminded him.

We walked slowly back past the vendors squatting beside their goods. The other two were already in the carriage.

“We thought we’d lost you,” said Mrs. Malloy.

When we reached the dock and had mounted the gangway Dick pressed the white silk shawl into my hands. “I bought it for you,” he said.

“But I thought you had bought it for someone else.”

“For whom did you think?”

“Well, perhaps your mother.”

A faint shadow darkened his face. He said, “My mother is dead.” I wished I hadn’t said that because I knew that the thought of her had given him pain. And then it occurred to me that I really did not know very much about him. He loved me; he hated the Captain. What other violent emotions were there in his life?

We were slipping slowly away from the dock when Chantel came into my cabin. She grimaced. “To think that I’ve had to be the stay-at-home.”

“How’s the patient?”

“A little better. It was the heat which was too much for her. She’ll soon recover when we’re at sea again.”

“Chantel,” I said, “it won’t be long now before we reach Australia.”

“I’m beginning to wonder what our island is going to be like. Imagine it! Or can’t you? I think of palm trees and coral reefs and Robinson Crusoe. I wonder what we shall do when the ship has sailed away and left us there.”

“We shall have to wait and find out.”

She looked at me sharply. “Something happened today.”

“What?” I asked.

“I mean to you. You went out with Dick Callum didn’t you?”

“Yes and Mrs. Malloy and the First Officer.”

“Well?”

I hesitated. “He asked me to marry him.”

She stared at me. And then she said quickly: “And what did you say? ‘Sir, this is too sudden’?”

“Something like that.”

She seemed to breathe more freely.

“I gather you don’t like him much,” I said.

“Oh, I’m indifferent. But, Anna, I don’t think he’s good enough.”

“Really. Not good enough for me!”

“Underrating yourself as usual. So you refused him, which refusal he took like a gentleman and asked leave to renew the invitation at a later date.”

“How did you know?”

“Regulation pattern. Mr. Callum would conform to it. I’m sure. He’s not for you, Anna.”

I felt a great desire to defend him.

“Why not?”

“Good heavens you’re not coyly considering, are you?”

“I’m not likely to get another invitation and many people believe it’s better to be married to someone one does not love than never to be married at all.”

“You give in too easily. I prophesy that one day you will marry the man of your choice.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked wise; and I knew what she was thinking.

I said: “Well, I refused him and we’re still good friends. He gave me this.”

I unwrapped the shawl and showed her.

She took it from me and put it round her shoulders. It suited her to perfection; but then everything suited her.

“So not being able to accept his proposal you accepted his shawl.”

“It seemed churlish not to.”

“He’ll renew his proposal,” she said. “But you’ll not accept him, Anna. It’s never wise to accept second best.” She had seen the fan and her eyes widened with horror. “A fan … a peacock feather fan! Where did you get it?”

“I bought it near Malabar Hill.”

“It’s unlucky,” she said. “Didn’t you know? Peacock’s feathers are cursed.”

“Chantel, what a lot of nonsense.”

“Nevertheless,” she said, “I don’t like it. It’s tempting fate.”

She picked up the fan and ran out with it. I ran after her. I caught her up at the rail; but she had already dropped the fan overboard.

15

There were hot days and nights when we crossed the Indian Ocean. We were too lazy to do very much but lie stretched out on our chairs on the port side of the ship. Only the two boys seemed to have any energy. I saw Redvers now and then; after the scene in his cabin he had appeared to avoid me for a few days, and then he ceased to do so. While we crossed this quiet tropical sea he had more lei sure; and as Edward liked to be with him as much as possible, that meant that I often was too.

Edward would say: “Come on, we’re going up to the bridge. The Captain said I might.”

“I’ll take you up,” I told him, “and leave you.”

“I know the way,” scorned Edward, “but the Captain said I could bring you too.”

So we were there among the navigating instruments, and during the lapses when Edward was so absorbed in some instrument that he would cease to ask his shrill questions, we would exchange a word or two.

“I’m sorry about that outburst,” he said to me on our first encounter after the scene. “It must have been most embarrassing for you.”

“For you too,” I replied.

“Not such a novelty for me.” It was the first time I had detected a note of bitterness in his voice.

“I was terrified that it would have some disastrous effect.”

“One of these days …” he said. His eyes, which seemed to have become even more blue since we were at sea, were fixed on the curve of the world where the sea met the duller blue cloudless sky. “Yes, one of these days there will be.”

Then he looked at me; his blue eyes piercing, interrogative. I felt my heart leap up. Was this another proposal, the proposal of a man who had a wife already living? Was he asking me “Wait”?

I shivered. I hated the thought of waiting on Death. When people had said to me “When your aunt dies you will be comfortably off,” it had shocked me. It was horrible to wait for death to remove others from your path. I was reminded of the vultures on Malabar Hill.

I feared that the slightest response from me would have released a flood of words which were better left unsaid, but as Chantel would have pointed out to me, the thoughts existed whether they were spoken or not.

Edward came up and saluted.

“Captain, what’s that thing with the handle?”

The moment had passed. “Better show me, Bo’sun.” He had christened Edward Bo’sun much to Edward’s delight; Edward made Johnny address him as such.

I felt deeply touched to see them together. I would never believe he could kill a man for a fortune. He was innocent. And yet … he had come to the Queen’s House and had not told me he was married. And now was he really suggesting that I should wait?

What a dangerous situation could arise when someone else stood in the way of something which was passionately desired. A common enough situation to have earned a cliché title — the eternal triangle. And to think that I should have been at one point of this.

I had left the sheltered life and come out into the danger zone, I, homely Anna (as Monique called me). I might have been safe in England, adviser to an antique dealer, companion to an old lady, governess to a child. Those were the alternatives.

Edward was absorbed.

“He’ll be a sailor one day,” said Redvers coming back to me.

“That would not surprise me, although children change and often ambitions of their early days lose their appeal as they grow older.”

“What was your ambition as a child?”

“I think it was merely to be like my mother.”

“She must have been a successful parent.”

“As you are with Edward.”

He drew his brows together. “I wouldn’t give myself full marks. I see so little of him.”

“I did not see a great deal of my mother.”

“Perhaps children idealize a parent when they don’t see too much of him … or her.”

“Perhaps. To me my mother was the ideal of grace and beauty, because I never saw her anything but gay. I suppose she was sad sometimes, but not when I was there. She laughed a great deal. My father adored her. She was quite different from him. It brought it back so vividly when we were in Bombay.”

“Did you enjoy your trip ashore?”

I hesitated. Then I said, “I went with Dick Callum, Mrs. Malloy and the First Officer.”

“A pleasant little party.”

“He has sailed with you many times, I gather.”

“Callum? Yes. He’s a good conscientious fellow.”

I wanted to say: “He hates you. I believe he would do you some harm if he could.” But how could I?

“I believe he thinks that I arranged the whole thing on The Secret Woman and that I have the jewels in safe keeping.”

“You know he thinks that?”

“My dear Anna, everyone thought it. It was the obvious conclusion.”

I was startled and delighted by the way in which he said “My dear Anna” because it made me feel as though I really was.

“But you accept that?”

“I can’t blame them for thinking the obvious.”

“But doesn’t it … upset you?”

“It has had its effect on me. It makes me determined to solve the mystery, to say ‘There, you were wrong!’”

“Only that?”

“And to prove I’m an honest man, of course.”

“And you can only do that by discovering the diamonds?”

“I believe them to be at the bottom of the sea. What I want to discover is who destroyed my ship.”

“These people think that you did.”

“That’s why I want to prove I did not.”

“But how?”

“By discovering who did.”

“Have you any hope of doing this?”

“I always hope. Every time I go to Coralle I believe that I am going to find the answer to the riddle.”

“But the ship is lost and the diamonds with her. How can you?”

“Someone somewhere in the world, and very likely on the island, knows the answer. One day I shall find out.”

“And you think the answer is on Coralle?”

“I feel it must be.”

I turned to him suddenly. “I shall try to find it. When Serene Lady has sailed away and left us there I shall do everything that is in my power to prove your innocence.”

He smiled. “So you believe in it?”

“I think,” I said very slowly, “that you could make me believe anything you wished.”

“What a strange statement … as though you believe against your will.”

“No, no. My will would force me to believe, because I want to.”

“Anna …”

“Yes.”

His face was close to mine. I loved him; and I knew that he loved me. Or did I know it? Was this an example of my will forcing my mind to believe?

“I was thinking of you all the time in Bombay. I wished that I could have been with you. And Callum … He’s not a bad sort but …”

I put out a hand and he took it. Then he put into words the thought that had been in his mind. “Anna, don’t do anything rash. Wait.”

“What for?” demanded Edward who had come over to us suddenly. “And why are you holding hands?”

“That reminds me,” I said. “We must go and wash our hands before lunch.”

I had to hurry away, I was afraid of my emotions.

On the boat deck Gareth Glenning and Rex Crediton were playing chess. Chantel was in the cabin in close attendance on Monique who had been ill during the night. Mrs. Greenall had cornered Mrs. Malloy and I could hear her talking about her grandchildren.

“Naughty of course. But boys will be boys and he’s only six years old. Why I said to him, by the time we get back to England you’ll be quite a little man.”

Mrs. Malloy grunted sleepily.

Edward and Johnny were playing table tennis on the green baize table at the end of the deck with a net round it to save the balls and through which I could keep a comfortable eye on them.

I had a book in my lap but I was not reading. My thoughts were in too much of a turmoil. I kept hearing one word in my ears, “Wait.”

He never spoke of his marriage to me; he never mentioned what he suffered through it. It was from Chantel that I was able to understand what a miserable failure it was. Chantel listened to Monique’s confidences; she lived close to them; she had spent some time in the Captain’s quarters when Monique had been there.

“I wonder he doesn’t murder her,” she said. “Or she him. She works herself up. Once when I was up there she picked up a knife and came at him. It wasn’t serious of course. She could hardly find the energy to breathe let alone drive a knife into that solid manly breast.” Chantel might joke about it, I could not.

“You see,” said Chantel, “he was trapped into marrying her. What he thought was a light love affair turned into something more. He had to marry her. There was some old nurse who threatened to put a curse on him if he didn’t She told me this. You can’t have a captain with a curse.”

I didn’t tell her that I had heard this before.

“Master Edward may or may not have been on the way. Dear, dear, the sins ye do by two and two you pay for one by one. At least you do if you’re found out. As for poor Monique, she continues to adore her Captain. She writes letters to him. I am continually taking them up to his cabin. She won’t trust them with anyone but me. Passionate, passionate Monique. Well, perhaps he might be nice to her. She can’t last for long.”

I said it was a very tragic situation.

“Less so than if she was a strong and healthy woman, though.”

I couldn’t bear it when Chantel talked like that. There were times when I thought we should have been wise to have stayed in England, both of us.

And here I was on the boat deck listening to the plop-plop of balls on a green table and the sudden shrill cries of joy and protest from the boys, glancing at the printed page, reading a paragraph and afterward not knowing what I had read, looking up and watching the porpoises frolicking or the flying fishes rising and swooping over the water.

A warm soft wind was blowing and perhaps this was what brought the voices to me so clearly.

They were coming from the chess table. It was Rex speaking with more intensity than I had ever heard from him before.

“You … devil.”

He could only be addressing Gareth Glenning; and anyone less like a devil it would be hard to conceive.

I suppose he has put him in check, I thought idly. But how vehement he had sounded and then I heard Gareth’s laugh. It was unpleasantly mocking.

I must have been half asleep and full of fancies. They were merely playing their favorite chess together and I suppose Gareth was winning.

Soon, I thought, we shall be in Sydney and then it will be quite different. So many will have left us. Rex, the Glennings, Mrs. Malloy and all the passengers. The only ones who will remain were myself, Edward, Chantel, and Monique. And once we reached Coralle there would be change again, but I should not be there to see that.

A ship had appeared on the horizon, her sails full blown in the strong winds. The boys came running out to look at her.

“Yankee Clipper!” cried Edward.

“China Clipper,” contradicted Johnny.

They argued together, forgetful of their table tennis. They stood watching the ship while Edward boasted of his superior knowledge gleaned from the Captain.

Miss Rundle strolled along, her big hat tied under her chin by a chiffon scarf to protect a complexion which Chantel had once said was hardly worth the trouble.

“Hello, Miss Brett.” The very way she spoke my name was a reproach. “Have you any objection to my sitting beside you?”

I had, but I could scarcely say so.

“Oh dear.” Her eyes rested on Mrs. Malloy and Mrs. Greenall. “She is not going to like saying goodbye to her officer.”

“I think it’s just a shipboard friendship.”

“I think you are very charitable, Miss Brett.”

Which was more than I could say for her.

“But then …”

She paused with a snigger; but she had really said enough.

“And you will be staying on after we have said goodbye.”

“Only for a short time until we reach Coralle.”

“You’ll have the crew … and the Captain … to yourselves. But you’ll have to share them with the others. How is poor Mrs. Stretton?”

“She is keeping to her cabin, Nurse Loman tells me.”

“Poor creature! What she has to put up with, I shouldn’t like to imagine.”

“Shouldn’t you?” I asked with some irony.

“Dear me no. With a man like that. The way he smiled at me when he said good day …”

“Really?”

“He’s a born philanderer. Yes, I’m very sorry for her … and anyone else whom he seems to fascinate. Of course people should have more sense, and more decency. But I don’t know. People amaze me. There is your friend Nurse Loman … and er …” She looked round at Rex. “What does she think she will get out of it?”

“I don’t think everyone is wondering what they are going to get out of their friendships. Well, they’d hardly be friendships if they were.”

“Oh you’re very clever at talk. I suppose a governess would be. Those boys … How they shout! Shouldn’t they be kept in order? My goodness when I was young …”

“The old order changeth and gives place to the new’,” I said, and thought of Chantel who liked to quote and usually misquoted, as I was probably doing now.

“H’m,” she said.

“It is a Yankee Clipper,” Edward was shrieking. “I’m going to ask the Captain.”

He came running along the deck, Johnny in his wake.

“Edward,” I called, “where are you going?”

“To see the Captain. I want to look through that thing he has up there. It’s wonderful. You can see tilings far away ever so clearly.”

“When did you see it?” jeered Johnny.

“I’ve seen it once … and twice. I have seen it, haven’t I, Anna? I saw it when we were up there. You know that time when the Captain was holding your hand and telling you to wait. That was the time. There was a great big ship then. I asked the Captain and he said it was a Yankee Clipper.”

Miss Rundle could scarcely contain her excitement.

I said: “You can’t go now. What of your game of tennis? Go and finish that.”

“But …”

“You can describe it to the Captain when you see it. Perhaps he’ll show you pictures and you can identify it.”

“He’s got lots of pictures up there, hasn’t he, Anna?”

I said: “Yes and I daresay he’ll show them to you both sometime. But you must remember that he has the ship to look after. So go and finish your game and see them later.”

So we sat on the deck. The ship had sunk below the horizon, and the porpoises were leaping with joy. Rex and Gareth were still intent on the chess board; Mrs. Malloy and Mrs. Greenall were dozing, and Miss Rundle departed. I knew she was looking for someone to whom she could whisper her latest discovery.

The Captain had held my hand and asked me to wait.

It was fortunate, I believed, that we should soon reach Fremantle. The excitement of coming into port always seemed to smother everything else among the passengers. Even Miss Rundle could not be greatly excited about scandal concerning people to whom she would soon say goodbye forever.

I had no doubt that she had spread Edward’s revelation, but it no longer seemed as important as it was three or four weeks earlier. Mrs. Malloy was less absorbed by the First Officer; that friendship was dying a natural death. She was fussily preparing everything for her landing at Melbourne. Mr. and Mrs. Greenall were in a state of fervid excitement and asking each other twenty times a day whether the grandchildren were to be brought to Circular Quay to meet them.

“Not the youngest, surely,” she told me repeatedly. “Not at his age surely.”

Chantel and Rex were in each other’s company at every possible moment; I was afraid for them. I came upon them once leaning on the rail talking earnestly. I was worried about Chantel. Her indifference was not really natural. Edward and Johnny were the only ones who behaved normally. They would part at Melbourne but in their minds that was, as they would say, ages away. A day in their lives was a long time.

And one morning I awoke and there we were.

On the quay people stood welcoming the boat wearing long white gloves and big hats trimmed with flowers and ribbons. Somewhere a band was playing Rule Britannia. Redvers had told me that there was a welcome and send-off from Australian ports for ships from England which was “Home” even for those who had never even seen it. On the big passenger ships, of course, people came to meet visitors, but we were essentially cargo. Still we had our welcome and the bands played patriotic tunes.

The children were excited and as I had given them lessons in the history of the countries before we reached them their interest was heightened. They were looking forward to seeing their first kangaroos and koala bears, so Mrs. Blakey and I took them ashore for the few hours we were in port. It was very hot but the boys seemed unaware of this. They kept shrieking their delight; and I must say I was enchanted as we drove along beside the Swan River where the red flowering gum and the yellow wattles made a great splash of color. But our stay was necessarily short and all the time we had to keep our eyes on our watches. During the trip I caught sight of Chantel and Rex riding together in one of the open carriages and I fervently hoped that Miss Rundle would not see them.

Poor Chantel. Soon she would have to say goodbye to Rex. Could she keep up her flippancy, her feigned indifference? I wondered.

And ahead of us — not so far ahead of us — lay our parting with the ship. Soon we should reach Coralle and she and I, with Edward and Monique, would be left behind. Whenever I thought of that a great apprehension came to me. I tried to dismiss it, but it wasn’t easy.

I saw Dick Callum when we came aboard. He was coming out of his office, busy as he often was during our stays in port.

“How I wish I could have taken you for a trip ashore,” he said.

“Mrs. Blakey and I took the boys.”

“Pressure of business prevented me … perhaps a little unnaturally.”

“What does that mean?”

“Some in high places might not have wished me to be free.”

“It sounds very mysterious,” I said and left him. I was really rather delighted that the Captain may not have wished me to be in Dick Callum’s company.

They were just about to take the gangway up when Chantel and Rex came hurrying on board.

She saw me at the rail and she came to me. Rex did not join us but went past.

“That was a near thing,” I said. “You might have missed the boat.”

“You can trust me never to miss the boat,” she said meaningly.

I looked at her flushed, lovely face. I had to admit that she did not look like a girl on the point of saying goodbye forever to her lover.

At Melbourne Mr. Malloy, a tall bronzed man who was making a success of his property some miles out of the town, came aboard to collect his family.

There was a change in them all. Johnny looked very sober in his sailor’s suit and round sailor’s hat with H.M.S. Success on it. Mrs. Malloy was dressed in a big straw hat with flowers and ribbons more suited to London than to the outback of Australia; but in her gray coat and skirt and pearl gloves and gray boots, she looked very attractive. Mrs. Blakey also wore her best clothes.

They seemed like strangers, no longer interested in their shipmates, no longer a part of us.

Mr. Malloy carried them off and they invited Edward to go and see them sometime in the vaguely cordial way people do when they know the invitation will never be accepted. Then they were gone, out of our lives forever.

It was going to make a difference to me. Edward would miss his friend, and I would miss Mrs. Blakey’s help.

Miss Rundle was at my side. “And where is the First Officer, eh?” she whispered. “Making himself scarce, which is only to be expected.” Chantel joined us.

“And we shall soon be saying goodbye,” she said blithely, smiling meaningfully at Miss Rundle.

“Some of us are going to miss each other.”

“Alas!” sighed Chantel.

“I am sure you and Mr. Crediton must be a little sad at parting.”

“And you too,” said Chantel.

“Miss Rundle,” I said, “is an observer of human nature.”

“Let’s hope she finds herself in company as rewarding as this which is now so sadly breaking up.” Miss Rundle looked startled and Chantel went on: “We must not forget that we are merely ‘ships that pass in the night.’ Finish it for me, Anna.”

“And speak to each other in passing;

Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said Chantel. “And so true. ‘Ships that pass in the night.’ And then … go on and on … never seeing each other again. It’s fascinating.”

Miss Rundle sniffed. She was not enjoying the conversation. She said that Mrs. Greenall was waiting for her in her cabin.

She left us standing there.

I said to Chantel: “The next port of call will be Sydney itself.”

“Yes, and then Coralle.”

“Chantel, how are you going to like it?”

“I’d have to be clairvoyant to answer that question.”

“I mean parting with Rex Crediton at Sydney. It’s no use your pretending. Yours is a special friendship.”

“Who’s pretending?”

“If you’re in love with him, if he’s in love with you, what’s to prevent your marrying?”

“You ask that question as though you know the answer.”

“I do,” I said. “Nothing. That’s unless he is so weak that he’s afraid of his mother.”

“Dear Anna,” she said, “I believe you are very fond of your undeserving friend. But don’t worry about her. She’ll be all right. She always has been. She always will be. Didn’t I tell you I never miss the boat.”

She was confident.

They must have an agreement of some sort, I thought.

Perhaps we were all growing reckless. I saw little of Chantel. It might have been that Monique wanted to give her as much time as possible with Rex before they parted. Perhaps she took a sly interest in their romance. They seemed to have struck up a close friendship with the Glennings. Or perhaps this was just to provide chaperones. In any case the four of them were often together.

The night before we were due to arrive at Sydney I met Redvers on the deserted boat deck. It was a warm night and the breeze which was ever present during the day often dropped at night.

To be alone with him was something for which I longed yet feared.

“Anna,” he said as he came toward me. I was leaning on the rail looking down into the dark water and I turned and faced him.

“Here we are on this ship,” he said, “and I scarcely ever see you.”

“It won’t be long now before I leave the ship.”

“Has it been a good journey?”

“I have never known anything like it. I shall never forget it.”

“Nor I.”

“You have had so many voyages.”

“Only one with you on board.”

“Where shall you go after you leave us on Coralle?”

“I shall be carrying cargoes for two months or so and then I shall call back at the Island before the journey home.”

“So … we shall meet again.”

“Yes,” he said. “We usually put into the Island for a couple of nights. I have been thinking …”

“Yes.”

“Wondering,” he went on, “what you will make of the Island.”

“I don’t quite know what to expect. I’ve no doubt that the island of my imagination is quite different from the reality.”

“It’s half cultivated, half savage. That’s what makes it so strange. Civilization exists rather … uneasily. I have been thinking a great deal about your staying there.”

“My staying there?”

“Monique must stay. It is necessary for her health. And Edward should of course stay with his mother. But I wonder about you, and Nurse Loman of course. I think when I return you may well ask to be taken home.”

“Would there be cabins for us on your ship?”

“I shall see that it is possible.”

“That is comforting,” I said. “Very comforting.”

“So we may have another voyage together?”

I shivered.

“You’re cold?”

“Who could be cold on a night like this.”

“Then it was a shiver of apprehension. Anna, why are you afraid?”

“I don’t know if I should call my feeling fear.”

“I should not speak to you like this, should I? But should we pretend to be what we are not, to deny the truth?”

“Perhaps it would be better to.”

“Could it be right at any time to deny the truth?”

“In some circumstances I am sure it is.”

“Well,” he said, “I shall not be governed by such ethics. Anna, you remember that night when I came to the Queen’s House?”

“I remember it well.”

“Something happened then. That house … I’ve never forgotten it. The clocks ticking, the furniture all over the place, and we were there at that table with those candles burning in the sticks.”

“Very valuable sticks. Eighteenth-century Chinese.”

“We seemed isolated, just the two of us, and that girl flitting back and forth waiting on us. It was like being alone in the world and nothing else being of any importance. Did you feel it? I know you did. I couldn’t have felt it so intensely if you had not.”

“Yes,” I said, “for me too it was a memorable evening.”

“Anything else that had happened before seemed of no significance.”

“You mean your marriage?”

“Nothing else seemed of any significance. There were just the two of us, and those clocks ticking away, they seemed to do something with time. Does that sound stupid? I had never been so happy in my life. So elated and yet contented, excited and yet serene.”

“That was before the disaster of The Secret Woman.”

“But I was already married and that was a greater disaster. Oh yes I shall speak frankly to you. I make no excuses for myself. I just want you to understand. The Island fascinated me when I first saw it, fascinated me as it now repels me. When you see it, perhaps you’ll understand. And Monique, she was so much a part of the Island. I was entertained there by her mother. It’s a queer place, Anna. I shall be uneasy thinking of you there.”

“Chantel will be with me.”

“I’m glad of that. I don’t think I should allow you to be there alone.”

“Is it so terrifying?”

“You will find it strange, difficult to understand perhaps.”

“And you can leave Edward there happily.”

“Edward will be all right. He is after all one of them.”

“Tell me about them.”

“You will see for yourself. Her mother and the old nurse, and the servants. Perhaps it is my imagination. I was fascinated at first and I thought Monique beautiful. I should have got away. I should have known, but of course I didn’t until it was too late. And then marriage became a necessity and after that I was committed.”

“You left Monique on the island and sailed away?”

“It was a similar trip to this one. And when I came out again that was with The Secret Woman. And then next time when I called at the Island I brought Monique back to England. And now … I shall leave you there.”

He was silent for a while and then he went on: “I wonder what will happen this time.”

“I hope nothing disastrous. But it’s comforting to know that if we want to return you will take us. I shall tell Chantel this.”

“I think she will certainly want to come back. I could see you there, Anna, in certain circumstances, but not Nurse Loman.”

“At least we shall be interested to see the Island.”

“It’s beautiful. Lush foliage, surf breaking on sandy beaches; palm trees swaying slightly in the soft breezes, and the clear sea blue as sapphires and green as emerald lapping the golden sands.”

“And when you get back to England what shall you do?”

“Stay a few days before I set out again.”

“For the same voyage?”

“So much depends on what cargoes we have to carry. One thing I shall do is go to Queen’s House and say ‘I have come on behalf of Miss Brett, the owner, who has asked me to call and see how you are getting on here.’ I shall stand in the garden as I did on that damp autumn night. And I shall stand in the hall and think of that night which changed everything in my life, and changed me too.”

“Did it?”

“Oh yes, it did. Indeed it did. I wanted something different from life after that.”

“What had you wanted before?”

“Adventure! Change! Danger! Excitement! But after that night I grew up. I wanted to be with one person. Before, I had always believed that I would never want to be with one person for more than a limited span. I was seeking perpetual excitement. I needed continual stimulation which only novelty could give. I grew up that night. I knew what life was about. I saw myself living there, in that house. The lawn with a table under a brightly colored sunshade and a woman sitting under it with a china teapot pouring tea into blue china cups. And perhaps a dog lying there — a golden retriever — and children, laughing and playing. I saw it all clearly as something that I wanted and I never had wanted before. I shouldn’t speak of this, should I? But there is something in the air tonight. Here we are sailing close to the Australian coast. Can you see the lights over there? We are very close to land. And it’s summertime and … there is nothing so soothing as tropical nights at sea, because then you believe that anything could happen. But perhaps there are other places, like the garden of the Queen’s House. And sometimes I tell myself that that night there I saw a vision and one day that table with sunshade will be there, and I’ll be there.”

I said: “It can’t be. It was already too late when you came. I don’t think you should be talking in this way and I don’t think I should be listening.”

“But I am and you are.”

“Which shows how wrong we are.”

“We are human,” he said.

“But it’s no good. It’s no use saying what might have been, when something has happened to prevent it.”

“Anna …”

I knew what he meant. It was Wait. It could so easily happen. And these are dangerous thoughts. We were separated and while Monique lived his dream — and mine — could never come true.

I wanted to explain to him that we must not think of this because to think of it was to desire it with a passion that could only be sinful.

I thought I must not be with him alone again. He was a man of deep and urgent needs. I knew that. He had not lived the life of a monk and I feared for him … and myself.

It was too late. I must make this clear to him.

We were in danger of wishing the way was clear for us.

“It’s getting late,” I said. “I must go in.”

He was silent for a few seconds and when he spoke his voice was as calm as my own.

“We shall sail into the harbor tomorrow. You should come up to the bridge for the best view. You must see the entire harbor in one view. I can assure you it is well worth while. Monique will be up there if she is well enough and Nurse Loman must come. Edward will want to be there too.”

“Thank you. I’ll enjoy that.”

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

And as I turned away I thought I heard him say “My love.”

16

It was a glorious morning; the sun beat down on the decks as slowly we sailed into the harbor — grand; impressive, and beautiful beyond my imaginings. The description I had read of it “the finest harbor in the world in which a thousand sail of the line may ride in the most perfect security” was surely true. It was indeed a sight to take the breath away — the many coves and inlets, the magnificent Heads through which we must pass; the trees, the flowers, the birds, and the gloriously blue sea.

Even Edward was silent and I wondered whether he was thinking as I was — for I had taken the opportunity to give him a history lesson — of the arrival of the First Fleet a hundred years ago. It must have looked a little different then. There would have been no houses, no town, only miles of uncultivated land, and beautifully plumaged birds swooping over a dazzling sea.

Chantel stood with us, subdued too by that magnificent spectacle; or was it partly due to the fact that she must now say goodbye to Rex? We did not see Redvers who was of course on duty; there were just the three of us alone up there.

It was two hours later when we had come into Circular Quay; there was the usual bustle. Edward and I went to our cabin, Chantel went to hers. My thoughts were of Chantel. I thought: Now I shall know the true state of her feelings, for surely if she loves him she will not be able to hide it from me.

Monique was a little better. The excitement of arriving at Sydney had done her good. She had dressed and Chantel had told me she was with the Captain. Certain people would come aboard and be entertained here, she believed, and the Captain’s wife, since she was on board, would be expected to do certain honors.

A steward came down and asked that Edward be taken up to the Captain’s cabin.

I took him up and when I arrived and knocked at the door it was opened by Rex.

He smiled at me and said: “Oh, here’s Edward. Thank you, Miss Brett.”

I caught a glimpse of Redvers and an elderly man with a youngish woman — in her mid-twenties, I guessed.

I went back to my cabin. Chantel was there, studying her face in my looking glass.

“Visitors?” she asked.

“An elderly man and a youngish woman.”

“You know who they are, don’t you?”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

“They are Sir Henry and Helena Derringham.”

“Oh.”

“Well, what did you expect. Of course they came aboard to welcome Serene Lady to Sydney. Rex was there I suppose.”

“Yes.”

She was looking at me in the glass; but still she betrayed nothing.

We spent two days in Circular Quay. This gave me an opportunity to see Sydney. The Greenalls with Miss Rundle had left; so had the Glennings. It seemed so different without them and the usual routine of days at sea. There was a great deal of the bustle that went with the loading and unloading of cargo. Chantel and I went shopping — she for herself and Monique, I for Edward and myself. We could not talk of what I wanted to in Edward’s company; nor was I sure that Chantel would have talked to me alone. I felt such a deep sympathy for her, the more so because of my own position; then I felt angry with Rex because their future lay in his hands, and because he was so weak he had come to Sydney to make the proposal to Helena Derringham which he had failed to make in London.

There was one consolation. Surely such a weak man was not worthy of Chantel?

In the afternoon of the second day I sat on the deck with a book. I had been out in the morning and was rather tired. Edward was with his parents. I did not know where Chantel was.

Dick Callum came and sat beside me.

He said: “May I have the pleasure of taking you out to dine tonight?”

I hesitated.

“Oh come, you mustn’t say no. I shall be most hurt if you do.”

His smile was very pleasant and after all what had he done except honor me with his admiration and bear a certain animosity to Redvers, which in the circumstances some people would say was natural.

So I accepted. He could not stay with me now. He was on duty and the purser’s office as I knew was at its busiest when we were in port.

That evening he took me out to Rose Bay. It was a delightful restaurant, each table candlelit with blue and gold candles; there was an orchestra which played romantic music and a violinist who came to our table and played especially for me.

Dick was doing everything possible to please me, and it would have been ungrateful not to appreciate this.

He apologized for his outburst on the previous occasion.

“I admit,” he said, “that I am jealous of the Captain.”

“Then,” I said, “this is the first step to conquering this emotion which …”

“Yes. I know. It hurts me more than it hurts him.”

“Do I sound so tutorial?”

“Charmingly so. And it is true, of course. I suppose it’s a form of admiration. He’s a first-class captain. And that is important. The Captain sets the pattern for the whole of the ship. It’s a pity …” He hesitated and I urged him to go on.

“It’s no good harking back, but it is a pity about The Secret Woman. That sort of thing sticks. There’s not a member of the crew who doesn’t know something about that shady incident, and very likely puts a certain construction on it. At least it makes them fear a man if they don’t respect him.”

“So the crew fears and does not respect the Captain.”

“I didn’t mean to put it so definite as that, but when an incident occurs like that, when a captain loses his ship in mysterious circumstances, he never escapes from the stigma. As I said to you before, if it had happened to anyone not connected with the Creditons, he would have lost his master’s ticket. But we don’t want to talk of that, do we. We have said all that can be said. What do you think of Sydney?”

“Interesting, beautiful beyond my expectations.”

He nodded. “And what are you going to think of the Island?”

“That’s something I can’t say as yet surely?”

“Anna, I don’t like leaving you there.”

“It’s kind of you to be so concerned. But why do you feel this anxiety?”

“Perhaps it’s because of what happened there. The ship … being blown up in the bay there.”

“I thought we had decided not to discuss the incident.”

“I’m not discussing the incident really. I’m thinking of the Island. It’s uncanny. Suppose the Captain was not concerned? Suppose someone there put a curse on the ship?”

“Oh really, you do not believe that sort of thing do you?”

“Many people don’t believe in ghosts in the bright daylight do they? But they change their minds when the darkness falls. How many scoffers would spend the night alone in a house reputed to be haunted? Well, I don’t believe in curses and spells here in Sydney, here in this restaurant with you sitting opposite me and the violins playing Mendelssohn’s Song Without Words. But on the Island it might be a different matter, and we are getting very near to the Island.”

“Who would put a spell on a ship?”

“Perhaps it went back long ago. Perhaps it wasn’t one of the islanders. There is a story about that ship. It was to be named Lucky Lady or something like that. I never heard what. But Lady Crediton named it … somewhat unexpectedly. Imagine her feelings when she named that ship. She was thinking of that woman, the Captain’s mother. She said ‘I name this ship The Secret Woman and may God bless all who sail on her.’ Suppose she did not say bless, but curse. Suppose she was the one who laid the curse on the ship?”

“You are talking like some old soothsayer. Not at all like the Purser of the Serene Lady.”

“We all have our moments of superstition, Anna. Even you will have yours, if you have never had them already. Wait until she gets to the Island, until you feel the atmosphere of the place. We shall be coming back there after a while.”

“Two months,” I said.

“And then, Anna, I shall ask you again what I asked you before, for who knows what may happen in two months?”

Then we talked of other things; he told me of his ambitions. He wanted a home in England, somewhere to come back to in between voyages. He had seen the Queen’s House. It was well-known in Langmouth. I realized it had become so after Aunt Charlotte’s death.

I think he was picturing coming home to the Queen’s House. He was trying to build up a picture for me to see. A life together — a life of serenity and perhaps happiness.

I let him talk. I hadn’t the heart to say I could never marry him.

And that night as I slept in the ship lying still in the dock I dreamed of Aunt Charlotte. She came to my room in the Queen’s House. I opened my eyes and saw her standing there, and her face was hazy and benevolent as it had rarely been in life; she was like a dream figure but the cluttered furniture of the room was lifelike.

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. “Take what you can get. Don’t go stretching out for the impossible. And how is it possible, eh? Not without disaster. Not without tragedy. You were involved in sudden death once before, my girl.”

Then in my dream I heard mocking laughter. It was Monique’s.

My pounding heart awoke me and I lay thinking of the future, the Queen’s House, and children, my children playing on the lawn. Then I slept again and strangely the dream continued. I went to the gate and there were two men standing there. And I was not sure which one I came in with.

A fantastic dream. Symbolic?

We were sailing at midday. The Glennings had come on board the previous day. They were staying for a few weeks in a hotel on Bondi Beach and asked me if I would like to bring Edward for a little outing. Edward, who was present, declared his desire to go so I accepted the invitation. They had always been very pleasant to me although I had had little to do with them.

They took us out driving and we went beyond the town and to where in the far distance we could see the hazy Blue Mountains. I was a little uneasy for I feared we should not be back on the ship in time, and I wondered what would happen if it sailed without us.

Gareth Glenning, understanding my anxiety, soothed me. “Don’t worry, Miss Brett, we’ll get back in good time.”

“If you didn’t,” said Edward, his eyes round with horror, “would the Captain sail without us?”

“Ship’s time waits for no one,” I said. “But we’ve time.”

“We are going to miss you all,” said Claire. “So much. But we’re seeing Mr. Crediton in Sydney.”

“A pity you have to go on and leave us,” added Gareth. “Still you have Nurse Loman with you.”

“The Captain is sailing with us,” said Edward proudly.

“Where the ship is he has to be,” I added.

“We’re getting near to the docks. I can see masts,” said Edward. “Look.”

“Nurse Loman is a very lively companion,” went on Claire. “We are going to miss her very much.”

, “So will Uncle Rex,” said Edward. “Everybody says so.”

The Glennings smiled in rather an embarrassed way. I believed they were sorry for Chantel; and they had seen more of her in Rex’s company than I had.

I said, changing the subject: “We shall find it much cooler when we’re at sea again.” But Claire brought the conversation back to Chantel. She must have had an adventurous career. She had nursed a Lady Henrock, they believed, before she came to my aunt.

“She has talked of her.”

“A very unusual young woman.”

Naturally they were impressed by Chantel. Anyone would be. She was far more interesting than I was. I had always known that. It occurred to me that the Glennings had brought me out to talk about her. I wondered whether they knew of a case and were hoping to engage her after … I must stop being obsessed by the thought that Monique would not live long.

“We shall think of you on the Island,” said Gareth. “We’ve heard quite a lot about it.”

“From Mr. Crediton? I didn’t know he’d ever been there.”

“I don’t believe he has,” replied Gareth. “But it’s talked of on the ship. There seems to be some … bogey about it.”

“Oh Gareth, you shouldn’t say that,” said Claire, mildly reproving. “Miss Brett is going to live there.”

“Just a lot of talk,” said Gareth.

“I’ve heard the rumors. In any case if we don’t like it we can leave.” Now we were at the docks. It was half an hour before we sailed, not a lot of spare time because the gangways would be taken up within ten minutes. I took a last farewell of the Glennings, and Edward and I went to our cabin. He was chattering about cranes and cargoes. He wanted to see us leave the dock, so I took him on deck and we remained there while the last duties were performed. We waved to the people on the dockside and the band there played and Edward skipped about with excitement until he remembered that he was leaving Australia and that Johnny was somewhere in that vast continent; then he became a little thoughtful.

He said to me in a hushed whisper: “The Captain’s guiding her, you know. He’s up there telling them all what to do.”

And that seemed to comfort him.

I wanted to see Chantel — I thought I must know how she was taking her parting from Rex and this would be the time to discover.

She was not in her cabin. So I went uneasily to mine.

I said to Edward: “Let’s go for a walk on deck.”

We walked, but there was no sign of Chantel.

I might have known, I thought. She’s gone. They’ve run away together. That was why she was so calm. She’s been planning this.

Edward did not know what a turmoil my thoughts were in. He was wondering what there would be for lunch.

I tried to answer his questions as though nothing had happened. I was thinking: I am going to that island alone. It was brought home to me afresh — although I had always been aware of it — how much I relied on her, her gaiety, her crazy outlook on life, her absence of sentimentality.

Of course, I thought, he would never let her go.

In a short time we should be right out into the Pacific sea and no longer see the comforting land.

And then the Island, the strange alien Island with its atmosphere of doom and curses, the Island about which everyone was warning me, without Chantel.

I left Edward in the cabin and went again to Chantel’s. Its emptiness depressed me — more than that it frightened me.

I was not as bold or as strong as I believed myself to be. I should never have come on this journey but for Chantel. I went back to my cabin. Edward began to chatter about Johnny. He still wondered what he was having for his luncheon.

I couldn’t settle. Half an hour had passed.

Soon luncheon would be served and it would be discovered that Chantel was missing.

Had she gone out and miscalculated the time? After all, it was what I had feared might happen to us. Oh no, I thought, Chantel would never do that. Chantel would never miscalculate.

But why hadn’t she told me?

I couldn’t rest. I went back to her cabin.

I threw open the door and walked in and as I did so I was caught in a firm grip and a hand was placed over my eyes. In that second I was terrified that something fearful was going to happen to me. It is amazing how many thoughts can come crowding into the mind in such a short time. I thought of Edward’s being carried out onto the deck. I thought of myself overpowered, thrown into the sea. The easiest place to commit a murder would be at sea, Chantel had said. There would be so little difficulty in disposing of the body.

Then I heard a chuckle. I tore the hand from my eyes and swung round.

Chantel was laughing at me.

My joy and relief was obvious.

“Confess!” she said. “You thought I had deserted.”

“Oh Chantel, why ever did you do this?”

“I was only teasing,” she said.

“I’ve been … horrified.”

“Flattering,” she said complacently.

“But to give me such a fright.”

“Poor Anna. You really are devoted to me, I believe.”

I sat down in her armchair and looked up at her — lovely, laughing and mocking.

“I’m a little worried about you, Anna,” she said. “You care for people so intensely.”

I was recovering myself. “One either cares for people or one doesn’t.”

“There are degrees.”

I knew what she meant. She was saying: Don’t worry about me. I liked Rex but I knew it wouldn’t come to marriage from the start. She was calm, judicial. I wished that I could be as philosophical.

“In fact,” I said, “I was thinking of myself. My emotions were entirely selfish. The idea of being on the Island alone quite frightened me.”

“That Island’s a weird place by all accounts. Never mind. I’ll be there, Anna. ‘Whither thou goest, I shall go. Thy people shall be my people.’ Has it ever occurred to you, Anna, that there are quotations to fit almost any situation?”

“I daresay that’s true. Chantel, you are … not unhappy?”

“Why? Do I look so sad?”

“Sometimes I think you hide a great deal.”

“I was under the impression that I spoke rashly without giving due thought to my utterances. At least that was your opinion of me.”

“I was thinking of Rex.”

“Rex is in Australia. We are on the high seas. Isn’t it time we stopped thinking of him?”

“I can if you can.”

“My dear, dear Anna.” She put her arms round me suddenly and hugged me.

Now we were out on the wide Pacific. The sun beat down on the ship and the afternoons were too hot for us to do anything but lie stretched out on the decks. Even Edward was languid.

The atmosphere had changed. We had four new passengers who were going out to one of the Pacific ports but we saw little of them; there was not what Chantel called the “house party” feeling.

Even the crew had changed. They talked about Coralle in whispers, almost looking furtively over their shoulders as they did so. The island of mystery, where a captain — their captain — had lost his ship. It was almost as though they expected something fearful to happen there.

I saw more of Chantel than I had at any other time during the voyage. She was sorry for the fright she had given me.

“Sheer egoism,” she commented. “I wanted you to know how necessary I was to your comfort.”

“You didn’t have to point that out,” I told her.

“Worrying about my affairs,” she scolded, “when your own are far more exciting.”

I was silent, and she went on: “Monique has changed. She’s, how shall I say … truculent. Soon she’ll be on her home ground. She’ll have allies.”

“You sound as though we’re going to war.”

“It might be something like that. She hates the Captain often. Then she loves him. Typical of her nature of course. Unreasoning, thinking with her emotions rather than her brain, which is not thinking at all. The setting for high tragedy. Steamy heat. It will be steamy, won’t it? Tropical nights. Stars, hundreds of them. The Southern Cross which always sounds so much more emotional than the Plow, don’t you think? Great waving palms, banana trees and orange groves, and the sugar plantations. Just the right background for … drama.”

“And who will be the actors in your drama?”

“Monique the central character with the Captain in male lead.”

“He won’t be there. He’ll stay for three days and nights and then he will sail away for two months.”

“How tiresome of him. Well there will be Mamma and the old nurse. There’ll be you and myself. I shall just be a small part player.”

“Oh stop it, Chantel. You’re trying to be dramatic.”

“I’m sure it would have been if he had been there. I wish we could think of some way of detaining him. Blowing up his ship in the bay or something.”

I shivered.

“Poor Anna, you take everything too seriously, me included. What would be the good of blowing up the ship? He would have to get back to Sydney, I don’t doubt without delay and await instructions. No, blowing up the ship won’t do.”

“Even supposing you could do it.”

“My dear Anna, haven’t you learned yet that I am capable of anything?”

She was flippant, and her flippancy was as helpful as her sympathy had been at the time of Aunt Charlotte’s death. But I was the one who should have been comforting her. After all she had lost a lover — for I am sure he was that — not because anything really separated them, but because he had not the courage to marry her.

I could not help being delighted that she was still with me, which was selfish of me. How much happier she would have been if she had eloped with Rex and was in Sydney with him now.

I was amazed and full of admiration for her ability to hide her unhappiness — for unhappy she must be.

She gave no sign of this. She flirted with Ivor Gregory; she kept up her assiduous care of Monique; and during the long drowsy afternoons she and I were often on deck together.

And in due course we came to the Island.