Driven to bay, Vol. 2 (of 3)

MAGGIE.

A large passenger vessel like the Pandora, that makes voyages of two and three months’ duration, without stopping on the way, is a hotbed of flirtation. When the first excitement of a ‘life on the ocean wave’ has toned down, and the novels are exhausted, and everybody knows everybody, then scandal and courtship become the order of the day. And what glorious opportunities such a life presents for ripening friendship into love. As in a ballroom the young couples frequent the conservatories, the stairs, the lobbies, and hall, anywhere where they can talk and listen unobserved, so on board-ship they may be found sneaking about the after-part of the poop, the cabin passages, and the lounges in the saloon. They make appointments on the side of the quarter-deck in the dog-watch, or the first night-watch, and there remain gazing at the moon and the stars, or in each other’s eyes, discussing astronomy, or marine aquaria, or the Lord knows what, until the young lady is summarily ordered below. A chaperon cannot possibly follow her charge into every corner of a large ship, for eighty consecutive days. She might be able to keep a strict eye over her in a ballroom, but it would be a herculean task to accomplish the same feat at sea. And so a lengthened propinquity on board-ship often brings about marriages and scandals that never would have taken place on shore. It is also a great vehicle for gossip. What have the passengers to whom no one makes love to do but scandalise the rest. From the Captain to the Jemmy Ducks, from the noble lord who is travelling in the state-room for his pleasure, to the humble emigrant whose whole property consists of the bundle he carries about with him, all who are unwary enough to tell any tales about themselves, or conspicuous enough to have tales told of them, supply food for discussion over the afternoon cups of tea, and learn with astonishment a few weeks after how much more their companions know of their lives and actions than they do themselves. The Pandora had found the north-east trade winds by this time, and making a south-westerly course, was fast diminishing the distance between her and the line. Though it was the autumn of the year, it might well have been mistaken for the spring, for the birds seemed to be pairing in all directions. Mr Harland and Miss Vansittart were seldom apart. Captain Lovell was paying all the attention in his power to Alice Leyton, whilst Vernon Blythe was eating his heart out for the love of Iris Hetherley, and cursing his fate for being an officer of the ship instead of a passenger. Mr Fowler, the mysterious, flew like a humming-bird from flower to flower, enlivening the married ladies with morsels of scandal, and complimenting the girls on their beauty and their wit. Every one liked him, but no one had succeeded in discovering who he was, or what he was doing on board the Pandora. He had a wonderful knack of changing the conversation directly it veered in his own direction, which made it appear impertinent to pursue a curiosity which he so boldly evaded. In the second cabin, Will Farrell had made himself a general favourite, and more than one lone she creature, unattached, tried hard to induce him to take her in tow. But though he was sociable with all, he was only intimate with one, and that one was Maggie Greet. He had formed quite an attachment for this girl. Had he possessed the means he would have transferred her from the steerage to the second cabin, but he promised himself to make up for that, to her, by-and-by. Meanwhile he spent every spare moment by her side, and on deck they were always together. But Maggie would not be persuaded to go on deck until nightfall, and then she wrapped herself up in what appeared an absurd fashion, considering the warmth of the weather.

‘What are you afraid of?’ asked Farrell of her one evening. ‘You couldn’t catch cold if you tried, in these latitudes.’

‘Toothache,’ replied Maggie mendaciously, ‘I have it dreadful sometimes at night.’

‘That’s because you stop in the cabin too much. You stew down there all day, and then when you come on deck, you feel the difference. You should stop in the open air, like the others do, from morning till night.’

‘And what would my poor lady do all by herself, whilst I was taking my pleasure on deck?’

‘I know you’re very good to Miss Douglas, Maggie. It’s that that first made me feel I should like to have you for a friend. You’re a staunch one, I’m sure. But why not persuade her to come, too? She’ll kill herself if she mopes in her berth all the voyage. What’s the matter with her? Is she sick?’

‘No! she isn’t sick.’

‘Why doesn’t she come on deck then?’

‘That’s her business and not yours, Mr Farrell.’

‘True; but I should like to know a little more about you both. Sometimes you call Miss Douglas your “_lady_,” and sometimes your “_friend_.” Now, I can guess that you have lived together in England as mistress and servant. But why don’t you say so?’

‘Have you got any more questions to ask me, Mr Farrell?’ said Maggie coolly.

They were sitting on the afterdeck together, and it was nearly dark, except for an oil lamp in the forecastle, that threw an occasional light on the girl’s face. Maggie was looking very pretty and pleasant that evening. Her dark eyes were bright and merry; her curly hair was blowing about in the sea breeze; over her head she had twisted a shawl of scarlet and green. Her pertness became her roguish face, and Farrell gazed at her admiringly as he answered,--

‘You’ll provoke me to ask you something that will make you angry, if you look at me in that fashion, Maggie.’

‘And what may that be?’

‘A kiss?’

‘Well, asking and having is two different things, so I advise you to spare your breath to cool your porridge.’

‘Now, you wouldn’t be so unkind as that, Maggie. But, seriously, can’t you understand why I want to know more about you. It isn’t idle curiosity. It’s because--well, it’s because we seem to be rowing pretty much in the same boat. We’re going to a new country together, where we’ve got no friends; so why shouldn’t we be friends to each other?’

‘We are, aren’t we? anyway, there’s no need for you to be more friendly than you are, and I don’t quite see how you could be.’

‘_I_ do. I would like to be the closest friend you had,--your friend for life, Maggie. Do you understand me?’

‘No,’ replied Maggie stoutly, ‘I don’t.’

‘Then I’ll make it plainer to you. Will you marry me? I want a wife to make a home for me in the new world, and you suit me down to the ground. If you’ll say the word, I’ll marry you as soon as we touch land. Is it a bargain?’

‘Lor’, Mr Farrell, are you poking fun at me?’

‘Indeed I am in earnest. I was never more so in my life.’

‘But you’re a gentleman born, and I’m only a servant. It’s right you should know the truth now.’

‘Well, I’m not a gentleman by birth, Maggie, though I may look like one to you. I was in the position of a gentleman once, but I lost it through my own folly, and I shall never regain it. I got into sore trouble through the rascality of another; and though I wasn’t really guilty, appearances were against me, and I had to give up my place, and take to earning my bread by the labour of my hands. So you see we’re pretty equal; and a girl that can cook my dinner, and keep my house clean, is just the sort of wife I shall want in my new home.’

‘What has become of the fellow as got you into trouble?’ asked Maggie, without noticing his last remark.

‘Curse him!’ exclaimed Farrell vehemently. ‘Don’t talk of him, Maggie, or I shall forget myself, and where we are. For I’ll tell you a secret, my dear. He’s on board this very ship!’

‘Lor’! and does he know that you’re here too?’

‘Yes. I hadn’t met him for years until I knocked up against him in the shipping-office. He was taken aback at meeting me, I can tell you, and hearing we were to sail in the same vessel. He tried to square me at first, and then he tried to insult me. But I’ll have my revenge on him yet. Wait till I meet him on the other side, and we’ll stand up, man to man, till one of us drops--’

‘Don’t talk in that way, Mr Farrell--_don’t_!’ cried Maggie, as she seized his clenched hand. ‘You make my blood run cold. What good will it be to lose your life for a man like that? It won’t undo the wrong.’

‘You’re right there, Maggie. But it drives me mad to know what he is, and then to see him carrying on as if he was a lord, and owned the whole vessel. And all the girls fawning on him, and letting him do as he likes with them. Lord, if they only knew his real character!’

‘What is his name, Mr Farrell?’

‘His right name is Horace Cain, but he’s hiding himself under a false one.’

‘And what did he do?’

‘I can’t tell you that, Maggie, because it might leak out, and it involves us both. He’s been my ruin in the old country, d--n him! I don’t want him to spoil all my chances in the new.’

‘Well, then, I’d try and forget it, if I was you, and never speak to him again. That’s more sensible than thinking of revenge.’

‘I will try and forget it--more, I will promise you never to mention it again--if you will be my wife, Maggie.’

Maggie shook her head.

‘No, Mr Farrell--_that_ I can’t never be.’