One evening they were dancing by moonlight and the moon went under a cloud so that no one could say who was who. But a handsome fellow in a blue coat had had his eye on Adeline. He pushed his partner from him and, dancing past Adeline, touched her with his hand. She was standing between her brothers with Mary Cameron hanging as usual on Conway’s arm. Adeline gave a little laugh as the man’s hand touched her shoulder and he could see the white flash of her teeth in the dimness. He danced round the deck and in a moment was at her side again. His arm slid about her. She sprang into the dance. Wildly they danced to the sound of the whistling and the pair of them moved in such beautiful accord that it was a pity the whole world could not see-but it was well for her that Philip did not. She was transported by the joy of movement but she kept her eyes on the cloud that hid the moon and, when its edge was silvered, she struck her partner on the breast and whispered, "Let me go, ye divil!"
As the moon cast its radiance on the deck she stood tall and slim by Sholto’s side. She saw then that Conway and Mary had been dancing.
He grinned and said, "Now I’ve something to hold over your head, Sis. Don’t you go telling tales of me".
A bell sounded and all had to leave the ship.
The next day a period of fog and drizzle set in. There was no more dancing on the deck. The days moved heavily. The Captain had promised that repairs should be complete in ten days but it was two weeks before they were ready to sail. There was a strange and rather sombre excitement in this second setting forth. The passengers were now so well aware of the evils which might befall them. Their faith in the worthiness of the ship had been shaken. Of course any ship might spring a leak, and Captain Bradley declared that the Alanna was now as sound as a nut.
They went to church on the Sunday before sailing. Adeline, Philip, Mr. Wilmott and Mrs. Cameron to the Gothic Abbey Church where the beautiful groined arches of the roof, the sculptured bosses, were obliterated under coat after coat of whitewash, and where the congregation was scattered. The Irishmen, D’Arcy and Brent, returned from the Catholic Chapel and told how they were not able to get inside the building for the Mass but had to kneel in the churchyard with the overflowing crowd. Conway, Sholto and Mary wandered along the shore. They had begged to be excused from church and Mrs. Cameron would deny her daughter nothing. Also, she had heard of an epidemic of fever going about in the town and surely Mary would be safer on the shore with the two boys to look after her.
The hour of sailing came and down the cobbled street moved all the conglomeration of objects that had been removed from the ship-the luggage came bumping and rattling over the stones. The livestock was harried, driven and prodded towards its quarters-all but the little goat, Maggie, who trotted on as gaily as she had trotted off. The ayah looked less fragile after her weeks on land but she wore an expression of foreboding as she glided on to the ship, holding the baby closely to her. Gussie, in her turn, clutched her wax doll in its silk crinoline and bonnet. The doll was large, a load for Gussie’s tiny arms, and so, as the ayah stood with her in the stern and gazed at the churning of the water as the ship moved away from the pier, Gussie leaned forward and let the doll fall overboard. She looked round slyly into the ayah’s face. "Gone", she remarked, and it was the first word she had spoken.
For an instant the pink face smirked up at them out of the foam, the crinoline was inflated, then there was nothing. The ayah broke into a storm of Hindu reproaches. She hissed these at Gussie in a terrifying way and shook her, but Gussie knew the ayah was her slave.
The sun came out brilliantly, gilding these last moments of departure. The hurry and scurry were over. All was neat and shining. The decks were clean. The brass of the railings and the officers’ buttons gleamed. The sails took in a little of the breeze as though testing its quality, then received it in its fullness and spread themselves white and rounded before the masts. Now there was no dreadful listing of the deck, only a tremulous, happy quiver ran across it as the Alanna rose and dipped on the small waves.
Philip and Adeline stood with fingers locked looking back at the land. The town, the mountains of Clare, the movement of figures in the foreground, were still so clear-like a painted picture before them. They could see a tall dark woman driving a pig into the sea. She had tied a string to its hind leg. She had tucked up her skirts and waded in after it. She began to scrub it with all her might while it squealed in a manner to split the heavens. Then they saw her drive it out, white as a pearl, all its filth left behind it, a very angel of a pig to look at.
"Oh, the lovely pig!" cried Adeline, laughing in delight. "I do wish my brothers had been here to see that! Why don’t they come up from below? Do you know, Philip, that little Mary is wonderfully improved. You should have seen her settling her mother in and fetching her a cup of tea to drink. Why-look! The post-chaise and horses! Merciful heaven, Philip, ’tis my father and mother and the wee Timothy with them and the four horses all in a lather!" Her voice broke into a scream. "Philip, stop the ship!"
For a moment he stood stock-still in consternation. He saw his father-in-law leap from the box, throw the reins to the coachman and assist his wife to alight. He saw him take off his hat and wave it, motioning the ship to stop. The space between them was steadily widening. Philip ran along the deck for a few strides, then halted.
"The Captain will never do it", he said.
"He must", she declared, and flew toward the wheel-house where the first mate had the wheel in his hands.
"Oh, Mr. Grigg!" she cried. "You must turn back! There are my father and my mother on the pier-come to get just one more glimpse of me! I can’t leave them like this".
"It’s impossible", he declared. "I wouldna turn back for the Queen of England. It’s against all rules".
"I’ll take the responsibility".
"I canna let ye!"
"I’ll take the wheel from you!"
"I canna let ye do that".
She put her hands on the wheel and strove to turn it. She was strong and she actually was changing the course of the ship. He cried in a panic:
"How daur ye? Ye’ll have us on the rocks, wumman! Let the helm loose!"
The passengers were crowding about.
Philip came and took her by the wrists.
"Come away", he said. "I’ve spoken to the Captain. He cannot turn back. Come and wave to your parents or it will be too late".
She burst into tears and, breaking away from him, ran weeping down the deck. The tears blinded her and at first she saw only a distorted image of her parents on the pier. As their figures became clearer she was horrified to see how they had lessened. Why, they looked no more than dolls! There was her formidable father looking no more than a doll-a doll that shook its fist at the receding ship. Or perhaps at her! She might never know which. Her last earthly vision of him might be of him shaking his fist at her and the ship. She put her palms to her quivering mouth and threw kisses to the fast diminishing figures of her parents and her young brother.
She saw James Wilmott standing at her side. There was a strange expression on his sombre face. He spoke in a new voice:
"Darling girl", he said. "Don’t cry. I can’t bear it. Please don’t cry".
At that moment Philip reached her other side. To take her mind off her disappointment, he said:
"Where are Conway and Sholto? They should come and wave good-bye".
"It is too late! Too late!"
"Shall I bring them?"
"If you like".
He strode off.
On the dock near her people she could see a little group of the relatives of the steerage passengers. They were huddled mournfully together as though for comfort.