She sped along the passage and down the steep stairs that led to the steerage. Here in the common-room people were settling themselves for the voyage, untying canvas-covered bundles, opening packets of food, drinking out of tin cups which a couple of barefooted cabin-boys were filling with tea. In one corner a decent-looking Scotswoman had gathered her brood of children about her and was putting large buns into their hands. A nursing babe still clung to her breast as she moved among the others.
Adeline asked her, "Do you know the whereabouts of my man, Patsy O’Flynn, the one with all the clothes on him and eyebrows that stick out?"
The woman pointed with the bun she held. "Ay, he’s yonder, whaur the hens are. Shall I fetch him to you, Ma’am?"
"No, no, thank you. I’ll go to him".
She found Patsy stretched at ease on his great-coat which he had spread out on the poultry coops. To the accompaniment of crowings and cacklings he munched a slab of bread and cheese. "Heave-ho, the winds do blow", he was singing like a seasoned tar, between mouthfuls, for he wanted to make his bread and cheese last as long as possible. Maggie, the little goat, had somehow loosed her tether and stood at his feet nibbling one of his dangling bootlaces. The pair were a picture of devil-may-care contentment.
"Oh, Patsy-Joe!" cried Adeline. "Do you know where my brothers are? I can’t find them anywhere on the ship".
He leapt to his feet and bolted a large mouthful of bread and cheese.
"I do not thin, your honour, Miss", he answered, jerking his head forward, for the cheese was still in his throat. "But I’ll set out to look for them this instant moment".
"Patsy-Joe, I’ve had a letter from Master Sholto and he says they’ve gone back to the town and little Miss Cameron with them. Oh, I dare not let myself think it’s so, for it would kill her poor mother and my brothers would be to blame. Have they said aught to you about running away home?"
"Ay, many was the time they said the divil take the ship and they hoped they never set eyes on her again".
"But you should have told me what they were saying".
"Ah, wisha, I thought it was just their way o’ spakin’. And did ye say the young geerl was off with them?"
"Yes".
His little eyes twinkled. "Sure, I’m not at all surprised, for I saw her with thim on the shore last Sunday marnin’, and I said to mesilf she was too free with Mr. Conway and himself with time heavy on his hands. And did ye say they’ve left the ship entirely?"
She was only wasting her time talking to Patsy. She hurried back up the stairway and at the top met Philip. Each saw the concern on the face of the other.
"What have you heard?" she demanded.
"A sailor tells me that he saw your brothers and Mary Cameron walking separately back to the town just before we left".
"My God, why didn’t he tell us?"
"He thought we knew. When he saw the carriage drive up he thought it had come to meet them. How did you hear?"
"I had this letter". She took it from her pocket and put it in his hand.
"Those boys ought to be flogged", he said, when he had read the letter.
"Oh, if only they hadn’t taken Mary! Oh, how can we break the news to her mother?"
"You did wrong, Adeline, to encourage that friendship. It’s led to a pretty kettle of fish".
She took hold of the railing and two tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I know-now that it’s too late", she said, in a trembling voice. Then, after a moment, she broke out, "We must go back for them! I’ll pay the cost from my own pocket!"
"We cannot. It’s impossible".
"What do a few hours more matter-in such a case?"
"Listen to reason, Adeline. If those three scallywags were waiting on the dock eager to be picked up we might do it-at a pretty cost to you. But they don’t want to come back to the ship. Doubtless, by this time, they are well on their way in quite another direction".
"Oh, whatever shall I do?" she groaned.
"You’ll just have to go and tell Mrs. Cameron what her daughter has done. After all-it’s her fault. If the girl had been properly brought up she’d not have dreamed of doing such a thing".
"Philip, darling, would you go and break the news to the mother?"
He looked aghast at the idea.
"I couldn’t possibly", he said. "You’ll have to do that".
"Well, will you stand beside me, in case-" She hesitated.
"In case what?" he asked distantly.
"She will be terribly upset. She will probably faint".
"I will stand at a little distance-within reach but out of sight".
"That will do… Do you think I might write her a letter, as Sholto did me?"
"By gad, if I had my hand on those boys! Yes-write her a letter, if you prefer that way".
"Perhaps you would write the letter. I believe she would take it better from you".
"I am no letter-writer", he answered testily. "Your family excels at that". He took her by the arm. "Come into the salon and I’ll get a glass of sherry for you. That will put heart into you".
In the little room, graced by so high-flown a name, Adeline sipped the sherry and thought miserably of what she had to do. At one moment she would ejaculate, "Oh, the young villains!" And at the next, "Oh, the poor mother!" — or-"It were better the ship had gone down with all of us!" But the sherry did her good and finally she sprang up exclaiming, "I’ll do it now and have it over".
"That’s a good girl", he said.
She scowled. "Don’t you ’good girl’ me! After all, you should be breaking the news to her. You’re a man and ’tis your own brother-in-law has done the mischief!"
"Adeline, I cannot".
He followed her down to the door of Mrs. Cameron’s cabin. She rapped, trembling in every limb.
"Yes?" came the voice from within.
"Mrs. Cameron, I have something to tell you".
"Come in".
She found Mrs. Cameron putting things in order and still wearing a hurt air. But there was something touching about her. She was small and neat and you could see she had been through a great deal. Adeline spoke gently.
"A while ago you said you supposed Mary was off somewhere with those brothers of mine. You were right. She is".
Mary’s mother only stared.
"She is off with them", went on Adeline. "Right off the ship and away home!"
"Are you mad?" said Mrs. Cameron. "What nonsense are you telling me?"
"It is the truth. They left the ship-Mary and my two little brothers-but they’ve gone home. She’ll be quite safe".
Mrs. Cameron had turned ghastly pale. She put her hand to her throat and demanded:
"Who told you this?"
"I had a letter from Sholto. And my husband was told by one of the sailors who saw them".
Mrs. Cameron spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"Show me the letter".
Adeline handed it to her. She riveted her eyes on it as though she would tear the written words from the page. At the end she reeled across the cabin but she recovered herself. She faced Adeline in a fury, her hands clenched at her sides.
"It’s your fault!" she cried. "It’s all your fault! You encouraged them. You begged me to allow Mary to go about with that wicked boy. Oh"-as she was struck by the possibilities of the situation her voice rose to a scream-"Oh, what has he done to her! My little ewe lamb! She was as pure as the driven snow till we came on board this accursed ship! Oh, can’t something be done? Where is the Captain?"
She pushed her way past Adeline, thrust aside Philip’s restraining hand and bounded up the companion-way. So flimsy were the partitions that a general consternation was caused by her outbreak. People came running from all directions (some thought a fresh disaster had befallen the ship) while Adeline and Philip followed after, miserably conscious of what had really happened.