The ship was now caught by a fresh wind. She mounted an on-rushing green billow. There was a straining of cordage, a great bulging of white sails. She leant, as though joyfully, she came about, the land was hidden and, when once more it was visible, it was far away and no more had any relation to the ship.
Mr. Wilmott offered his arm to Adeline.
"May I take you to your cabin?" he asked.
"Thank you". She leant on him gratefully.
"I hope you will forgive and forget the way I spoke a moment ago", he said. "I am a lonely man and your friendship is very precious to me. I was moved by your tears. But-I had no right to say-what I did".
"You are kind", she said. "You are a friend. That is all that matters". From beneath her wet lashes her eyes looked gently into his.
With Adeline still leaning on his arm they went slowly down the deck. Sea-gulls swung and circled above them. One even alighted on the top of a mast and sat tranquil as a ship’s figurehead.
V. The Second Voyage
When Adeline entered her cabin and saw her hand luggage heaped there and realised that another voyage in this cubby-hole lay before her, she had a moment’s feeling of desperation. What experiences might she and Philip have to face! They were leaving behind all they knew and loved, setting out for the unknown. She realised this much more than on the first voyage. The thought of her mother standing weeping on the dock came back to torment her. Even her father seemed pathetic for the moment.
She could not bear to begin unpacking yet. She would first see how the ayah and Gussie were faring. She crossed the passage and looked in on them. The ayah was stretched on the berth. Her wrist, on which she wore a number of silver bangles, lay across her forehead. From this shelter her languid dark eyes looked up at Adeline.
Adeline was fluent in the dialect used by the ayah. She asked:
"Are you feeling ill already?"
"No, Memsahib-but I rest a little. The beloved child is very well and quite happy".
"Yes, I see. Still, I think you would be better on deck. Baby could play with her shells there".
At the word, Gussie held up one in each hand, then laughed aloud and put them to her ears. Her face became rapt as she listened to their murmur.
"I shall take her to the deck at once, Memsahib", said the ayah, raising herself on her elbow with a look of patient resignation; then she sank back on the pillow.
"The smells down here are bad for both of you", said Adeline firmly. She looked about the cabin.
"Where is the doll?" she asked. "I don’t see it".
The bangles rattled on the ayah’s forehead.
"I put the doll away for safety, Memsahib".
"Where?"
"In the box with Baby’s diapers, Memsahib".
"That was well done. She is too young to appreciate it now. We’ll keep it for her".
"Gone", said Gussie.
"Did she say something?" asked Adeline.
"No, Memsahib. She cannot yet say one word".
As Adeline went back along the passage she met Mrs. Cameron. Still wearing her dolman and bonnet she turned a face heavy with mingled self-pity and reproach toward Adeline.
"I suppose Mary is off somewhere with those brothers of yours", she said. "I’ve never seen such a change come over a girl. I used to know exactly where she was. She almost never left my side. But now, half the time, I have no notion of her whereabouts".
Adeline’s sympathy, which had been focused on the mother, now veered suddenly to the daughter.
"Well, after all", she said, "Mary is very young. She must have a little fun".
"Fun!" repeated Mrs. Cameron bitterly. "Fun! If she can bear to have fun-after what we’ve been through!"
"You cannot expect a child to go on mourning for ever". Adeline spoke rather curtly. She was tired and Mrs. Cameron was altogether too mournful an object, planted there in her black bonnet and dolman. No wonder the girl wanted to be off with other young people.
"She is nearly sixteen. She’ll soon be a woman. She doesn’t seem to realise it. That’s what I tell her. She’s a regular feather-brain".
"I saw her carrying a cup of tea very nicely to you not so long, ago".
Mrs. Cameron flared up. "I hope you are not insinuating that I do not appreciate my own child, Mrs. Whiteoak! She is all I have in the world! My mind is always on her! I’d die a thousand deaths rather than a hair of her head should be harmed!"
"You’d do well to get your mind off her for a bit", returned Adeline. She was growing tired of Mrs. Cameron.
The vessel gave a sudden heave. She seemed to have glided down a steep slope and to be now laboriously mounting another. Adeline’s stomach felt suddenly squeamish. Was she going to be sick? She must lie down in her berth for a little.
Mrs. Cameron had burst into tears.
Adeline exclaimed-"Oh, I didn’t mean that you are not a perfect mother! I’ll go and find Mary for you this minute. I’ll tell my young brothers to keep away from her. Pray go and lie you down and I’ll send her to you in a jiffy".
Mrs. Cameron stumbled back to her cabin. Adeline listened outside the one occupied by Conway and Sholto. There was silence within. She entered.
There were two portmanteaux standing in the middle of the tiny room. There were odds and ends of things thrown on the lower berth. But what was that on the pillow? She leant over it to see. For some reason her heart quickened its beat.
It was an envelope pinned to the pillow and addressed to her in Sholto’s best schoolboy handwriting. She was trembling as she opened it, though she did not know what she expected to read. She tore it open. She read:
MY OWN DEAREST SIS-
Conway is making me write this as he says he is the man of action and I am the man of letters. Be that as it may, I feel pretty sick at what I have to disclose. I am writing this in the hotel the night before the ship sails. We shall go on with our luggage on board and then, while everything is confused, we shall return to the dock and conceal ourselves in the town till you are gone. Dear Adeline, forgive us for not going with you to Quebec. During the voyage we wished ourselves back in Ireland a thousand times. It seemed too good to be true when the ship turned her bow homeward again, we were that homesick.
Now this is the part Conway himself should have written but you know what a lazy dog he is. Mary has decided not to go to Canada either. She has decided to remain in Ireland and marry Con. I should hate to be in his shoes when he faces Father with Mary on his arm. Mary tried to write but she cried and messed up the paper outrageously. So, dearest Sis, will you please break the news with great tact and sympathy to Mrs. Cameron. Mary says this will be quite a blow to her but, as Mary’s happiness was always her first consideration, she will be reconciled to it once she thinks it over.
When you arrive in Quebec will you please put all our belongings (that is, of course, including Mary’s) on the next east-bound ship and address them very clearly. We don’t want to lose anything, especially as after all the outlay for Con and me, Dad will be an old skinflint for years to come.
Mary will write a long letter to her mother and send it by the next ship. Conway also will write.
We all three join in wishing you bon voyage-no storms-no leaks-and a glorious time in Quebec.
Ever your loving brother,
Adeline stood transfixed when she had finished reading the letter. She had a sense of panic. She felt that she wanted to run to her own berth, get under the covers, draw them over her head and remain so till Quebec was reached. Then disbelief and relief swept over her. It was all a joke! Her brothers were always up to pranks. It could not be true. She would find Patsy O’Flynn and perhaps he would know all about it, know where the three were hiding.