"Why doesn’t she do something to make the child happy, instead of brooding over her like a distracted hen!" exclaimed Adeline, on the second day out. "Really, Philip, I am excessively annoyed at that woman! I shall tell my brothers to make friends with Mary. It’s unnatural for a young girl to look like that!"
She did so. However, days passed before the boys were able to persuade Mary to leave her mother’s side. Mrs. Cameron, indeed, was unwilling to let her child out of her sight. She looked worried rather than pleased when finally Mary went for a promenade along the sloping deck, supported on either side by Conway and Sholto. They made an extraordinary trio, the boys in their elegant new clothes, the girl travel-stained; the boys bright-eyed, alert to everything that passed about them, the girl seeming in a kind of dream; the boys continually chaffing, she looking from one face to the other, scarcely seeming to take in what they said.
The remaining passenger with whom the Whiteoaks became friendly was an Englishman, a Mr. Wilmott who like themselves was going out to settle in Canada. He was a tall thin man with sharp but well-cut features and short brown whiskers. He was reserved concerning himself but a fluent talker when politics were under discussion. He and the two Irishmen soon provided entertainment for the rest, for they argued without open rancour. Mr. Wilmott was ironic, with flashes of wit, the Irishmen humorous and ever ready with the most violent exaggerations. Philip had been so long out of England that he felt unequal to political discussion. Also, in any such argument concerning their two countries, he would have had Adeline as his opponent, and the thought of this was distasteful to him.
Adeline’s mind was occupied by her desire to bring Mr. Wilmott and Mrs. Cameron together. Here they were, two lonely people (Mr. Wilmott certainly wore a sombre look at times) who would do well to link their lives together. And what a protector, what a father he would make for little Mary! She felt that Mrs. Cameron was melancholy, rather than heart-broken, over the loss of her husband. She was wrapped up in her child. How could a woman be mother before mate, Adeline wondered, as her eyes drank in Philip’s strength and beauty. Not she-not she! Her man would always come first. She despised the too maternal woman.
So a new world was created on board the Alanna, very different from the world on board the ship that had brought them from India. This was a much smaller, closer world, more cut off from the old life. The last voyage had been a voyage homeward. This was one into what was new and unknown. The last had been a linking-up; this was a cutting-off. Adeline was conscious of an odd detachment, an exhilaration, as though she were adventuring into a spiritual as well as a material distance.
For a week they pressed forward in fair weather. Then the head wind increased in strength and the ship struggled on against it and against the rising green waves that crashed on her bow, enveloping her in spray. It was no longer possible to stay on deck. They must spend the long hours below where there was not only the close air but the smells and noises from the steerage to be endured. The ayah became sea-sick and Adeline had the care of the baby on her hands. Mrs. Cameron and Mary adored little Augusta and took a large share of her care. But at night she was restless and Adeline and Philip did not get their proper sleep.
They were going to their berths early one stormy night when there was a thumping on the door and Conway’s voice called out:
"Philip! There’s a leak sprung!"
"What?" shouted Philip, staying the unbuttoning of his waistcoat.
"She has sprung a plank! She’s leaking!"
Then there came the heavy tramping of feet overhead and the shouts of officers.
Adeline turned pale. She had the quietly whimpering baby in her arms.
"Will the ship sink?" she asked.
"Certainly not! Don’t be alarmed", said Philip. He threw open the door.
Conway stood there supporting himself by the brass railing which ran along the passage. He wore a bright-coloured dressing-gown and, even in the excitement of the moment, Philip noticed how it heightened his resemblance to the Knave of Diamonds. With the door open, the noise of tramping feet and vehement shoutings, the roar of the steadily rising squall, the thunder and rattle of canvas and tackle, were increased. The sails were being lowered.
"They’re lowering the sails!" shouted Conway, but his voice came as no more than a whisper. "It’s blowing a terrible gale".
His brother stood close behind him, clinging to the railing. He looked green with sea-sickness. Adeline said to him:
"Come in and lie down in my berth, Sholto. You must keep the baby while we go to see the Captain".
The boy obediently stumbled into the cabin and threw himself on to the berth.
"Oh, I’m so ill!" he moaned.
Adeline placed the baby beside him.
"You are not to come, Adeline", Philip shouted.
Her eyes flashed rebellion. She gripped his arm in her hands. "I will come!" she shouted back.
The vessel gave a heave that sent them all staggering into one corner of the cabin. Mrs. Cameron now appeared in the doorway. She had a shawl wrapped about her head and she was holding Mary closely to her, as though determined not to be parted from her at the moment of sinking. But she spoke calmly.
"What is wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing but a leak, ma’am. We are going to see the Captain". Philip’s tone, his very presence, were reassuring.
"We will go, too". They saw the words on her lips though they could not hear them.
Clinging to the rail and to each other, Philip and Adeline gained the companion-way. They found the Captain and the first officer supervising the lowering of the sails. The great canvas thundered deckward as if in terrifying capitulation. The stark masts looked suddenly fragile and the ship vulnerable. The wind blew with terrific force and green walls of water reared themselves, then came crashing against the side of the rolling ship. The heaving mass of the waters was palely illumined by a cloud-bound moon that only now and again really showed herself. Adeline had seen storms at sea before this and they were tropical storms, but the ship had been larger, the company more numerous. There was a loneliness about this storm. The little group of people seemed helpless, the wind was piercingly cold. However, the Captain spoke with equanimity.
"It’s nothing but a squall", he said in his hearty Yorkshire accent. "I’ve been round the Cape many times myself and this is naught but a puff of wind. So you’d best go back to your berths, ladies, and not worry".
Above the noise of the storm came confused shoutings and tramping from the companion-way. The steerage passengers were pouring up from below. They looked wild-eyed, rough and terrified.
Captain Bradley strode over to them.
"What does this mean?" he demanded.
The second mate shouted back, "I couldn’t keep them down there, sir! The water’s pouring in below".