“Never … never…” he began.
“No, I won’t. I won’t, I promise.”
After a few moments, he was his old self again.
“All’s well that ends well. I can’t be grateful enough to Emmerson. It was a miracle that he happened to be there.”
“Yes,” I said with conviction.
“It was a miracle.”
“He’s a good fellow. I’ll write to him and you and Gertie can enclose a note.”
“Oh, we will, we will. I’m so happy to be back with you, and you’re not really angry?”
“As long as you don’t do anything so foolish again.”
“Oh, I won’t. I’ll be careful. I promise.”
So all was well. I was back and Uncle Toby was only cross with me because he loved me so much.
He sent for Jimmy and Timothy. He must have talked to them very severely, for they emerged from his cabin red-faced and solemn. They were subdued for several days afterwards.
Mrs. Forman blamed herself. She should never have allowed us to go, she said. But she was assured that she must not blame herself; and in any case she had been so worried at the time about Mr. Forman. He was now making satisfactory progress and would be recovered completely in a few days.
That incident had an effect on Uncle Toby. He was a little quiet at times, and sometimes absentminded, as though preoccupied in some way.
We were together as often as before, and I believed that, whenever it was possible, he wanted to be with me; and what he enjoyed most was sitting in a quiet spot on deck and talking to me.
There were occasions, though, when he would lapse into silence rare with him in the past and he would begin to say something, and then seem to change his mind.
This change in him had come about since our dramatic adventure and I believed it had something to do with that.
Then I learned what it was all about.
We had dined and it was one of those occasions when Uncle Toby had an hour or so to spare. It was a beautiful night, the sea was calm and a full moon was making a path of light across the water, and there was no sound but the gentle swishing of the waves against the sides of the ship.
Uncle Toby said suddenly: “You’re not a child any more, Carmel, I’ve been thinking that perhaps it is about time you began to learn a few things.”
“Yes?” I said eagerly.
“About me,” he said.
“About yourself.”
I was tensely, eagerly waiting.
“Please tell me. Uncle Toby. More than anything, I want to know.”
“Well, in the first place, I’m not your Uncle Toby.”
“I know. You’re Estella, Henry and Adeline’s, of course.”
“Yes. I’m that all right. Perhaps I’d better start from the beginning.”
“Oh yes, please.”
“I told you that my family didn’t want me to go to sea, didn’t I? I wasn’t like the rest of them. Well, you knew my sister, the doctor’s wife. You wouldn’t say I was like her, would you?”
I shook my head vigorously.
“I wasn’t like my sister, Florence, either.”
“The one Estella and Adeline went to … Oh no!”
“That’s the one. You see, I am most unlike them all. They all conformed, except perhaps Grace herself, who married the country doctor who was considered unworthy by the family. But then, it was probably that he was the only one who had ever showed any desire to join forces with Grace, so it was the doctor or no one. I’m being unkind. The fact is, I was never close to any of them. You can understand why I went to sea.”
I nodded. Certainly I could understand anyone’s wanting to get away from Mrs. Marline, not counting the rest of them.
“You were so different,” I said.
“Chalk from cheese, as they say.”
“But you were reconciled afterwards.”
“Let me tell you how it was. When I was a young officer, my ship was stationed in Australia, In Sydney actually. It’s a fine place and the harbour is grand. One of the finest in the world. Didn’t Cook say that when he discovered it? And he was right. Well, there we were based and there we took on our passengers and cargo and sailed round the world . just like the Lady of the Seas … to places in the vicinity mostly. Hong Kong, Singapore, New Guinea, New Zealand. I was twenty when I met Elsie. I was young, hot-headed, romantic you might say. We were married.”
“You have a wife?”
“Kind of.”
“How can you have a wife … kind of ?”
“You were always a very logical young lady, and you are right. You either have a wife or you don’t. What I mean is that ours was not like most marriages. We see each other now and then. I’ll see her when I get to Sydney. We’re good friends, but we don’t share our lives any more. We both decided it was best that way.”
“But she is your wife.”
“Marriage vows are binding. You’re either married or you’re not. So we are.”
“Shall I see her?”
“Yes. You’ll meet Elsie. She and I are the best of friends. We don’t see each other very often. Perhaps that’s why.”
“You don’t really like her.”
“Oh, but I do. I like her very much. We get on well for a time. She’s a good sort.”
“Then why … ?”
“There are things you’ll understand later. Human beings are complicated creatures. They rarely do what they’re expected to. She couldn’t leave her country, and I’m a wanderer. She’s got a comfortable little place near the harbour. She was born there. Native heath and all that. But I want to talk about us … you and me.”
“Yes,” I said excitedly.
“We took to each other from the start, didn’t we? There was something special, wasn’t there?”
“Yes, there was.”
“We were drawn to each other. Carmel, I am your father.”
There was a deep silence while joy flooded over me.
“You are pleased?” he asked at length.
“It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He took my hand and kissed it tenderly.
“It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, too,” he said.
I sat in wonder. If I could have been granted my dearest wish, it would have been just this.
He said: “You must be wondering how it all came about.”
I nodded blissfully.
“When I heard you had been left behind in Suez, it gave me such a shock. I could only be thankful that I did not hear until you were safe. I should have been frantic. I should have left the ship and gone in search of you. And that would have been the end of my career at sea. “
“Oh, I’m sorry … so sorry.”
“I know. It wasn’t your fault. Those stupid boys should have taken more care of you. The idea came to me that you were growing up and it was time you knew the truth. It was then that I decided to tell you, Carmel. I did not know. I had not an inkling until the doctor wrote to me. I was in New Zealand when I received the letter. Posts are often delayed, as you can imagine. Dear old Dr. Edward. His heart was in the right place. You see, he knew. Thank God he did.”
“They would have sent me to an orphanage. I should never have known you … or who I was.”
That prospect seemed doubly gloomy now that I could compare it with what I should have missed.
“Even Grace had to relent and look after you when she knew you were one of the family. But let me tell you. Your mother was a gipsy girl.”
“Zingara!” I cried.
He looked at me in amazement.
“She became that. She was Rosaleen Perrin. You knew?”
“I saw her once.” I told him how I had become acquainted with Rosie Perrin when she had bandaged my leg, and how later I had met Zingara.
“She must have come there to see you. What did you think of her?”
“That she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.”
“She was unlike everyone else in every way.” He smiled reminiscently.