"Just a cup of coffee and bread and butter perhaps."
"That's good. Then I'd get some fresh air if I were you. If you can take food, that's the best thing. Food and fresh air."
I went to the next cabin to see how Felicity and Miss Cartwright were.
They were both feeling ill and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. So I went to the dining room. There was hardly anyone
there. I had coffee and bread and butter and, taking Maisie's advice, went on deck.
The waves were washing over it and I could scarcely stand. I found a dry spot under the lifeboats, and, wrapping myself in a rug which I found in a locker, I sat down and contemplated the raging sea.
I thought of arriving in Sydney. A wild-goose chase. I could hear Granny's voice. Was that what it was going to be.
Someone was staggering along the deck. I saw at once that it was the big man I had seen in the dining room and I felt faintly irritated but a little intrigued. It would not have surprised me if I discovered he had followed me up here. He took a seat beside me.
"Why, hello," he said. "You're a bold young lady, braving the elements."
"I am told it is the best thing."
"If you have the nerve for it. Ninety per cent of our passengers are groaning in their bunks. Do you know that?"
"I didn't and I am not sure that the percentage is accurate."
"How many did you see in the dining room? How many are here? Fortunately only two which is far more interesting than a crowd."
"Do you think so?"
"I do, indeed. But I am lacking in courtesy. I should, of course, have asked permission to sit down with you."
"Isn't it a little late to do so now?"
"It is a fait accompli, as they say. Where else is there to sit? It is the only dry spot... here under the lifeboats. Permission granted?"
"What would you do if it were denied?"
"I should sit here just the same."
"Then to ask is rather superfluous, isn't it?"
"I can see you are a very logical young lady. Let me introduce myself. I am Milton Harrington. A noble name you think. Milton. Thou shouldst be living at this hour...' and all that. I'll tell you how it came about. My mother was a very beautiful lady—as you may well imagine from my inherited charms—and before I arrived in the world I gave her a wretched time. She was unable to indulge in her social activities which were the meaning of life to her. Paradise Lost, you see. And as soon as I—the most delightful cherub you could ever imagine—was laid in her arms, she cried: 'Paradise Regained.' So after that I just had to be Milton."
I was laughing. I had forgotten the uneasiness the wild weather had created in me. I had forgotten my seemingly hopeless mission. I was just amused. He was so sure of himself, so persistent in his determination to drum up an acquaintance.
"Now," he said, "it is your turn."
"Annalice Mallory," I said. "Ann Alice were two names which were used a great deal in our family for generations. Well, my grandmother, who had the task of naming me, decided to ring the changes, join them together and she came up with Annalice."
"Annalice," he said. "I like it. It's unusual. It suits you."
"Thank you for the compliment ... if it is a compliment. Unusual, I suppose, could mean unusually unpleasant."
"In this case it means quite the reverse."
"Then I will renew my thanks. How long will this weather last? Do you travel often?"
"One can never be sure about the weather. It could be a rough passage or a smooth one. It's in the lap of the gods. The answer to your second question is Yes. I do the journey frequently. I go home on average once a year."
"To England?"
"Yes. I own a sugar plantation. I come to London periodically on marketing matters. Why are you going to Australia?"
"I'm travelling with a friend and her aunt. She is going out to get married."
"I don't think I have ever made a crossing yet when there was not at least one young lady who was going out to get married. Men get lonely away from home. Then they go home to find a bride and bring her out to share their solitude. At first I thought you must surely be going to join some lonely man."
"Well, you are quite wrong."
"I'm glad of that."
"Indeed?"
He laughed. "Oh yes, indeed I am. I could not bear to think of such a young lady grappling with all that has to be done on a property in the outback. The beautiful English skin would become ravaged by the pitiless sun. You don't know how lucky you are in your rainy home where the sun doesn't dry up the crops and kill off the stock and hurricanes don't blow away the work of years, where you don't have plagues of locusts..."
"You make it sound like the plagues of ancient Egypt."
"That's exactly what it is like."
"Then why do people stay there?"
"It is not easy to pack up and walk to the Promised Land."
"Is that why you are there?"
"I don't live in the outback of Australia. I live on Cariba. That's an island more than a hundred miles off the coast of Australia. My father was out there and from him I inherited a sugar plantation. Sugar grows well in Cariba. But one day I am going to sell the
plantation and I'm coming home to acquire a manor house with a large estate... farms, the lot... and I'm going to be an English squire."
"Squires have usually been on their land for generations."
"I'll get round that," he said. "Tell me, what are you going to do when you get to Australia?"
"I am going to attend the wedding of my friend. Stay for a while and then I suppose go back with her aunt."
"I come to Sydney quite frequently. Shall we be friends?"
"How can we say? Friendship is not something which is decided at a brief meeting. It has to be nurtured. It has to grow."
"We'll nurture it then."
"That is a hasty decision," I told him. "We only boarded the ship yesterday. We saw each other for the first time in the dining room."
"When I was rather bold. You will discover, when the nurturing begins, that that is a trait of mine. Do you like it?"
"So much would depend on when it occurred."
"You and I are going to get along well. We're two of a kind, you know."
"So you find me bold?"
"Boldness lurks beneath the refined manners of the perfect lady. I can see it peeping out. For instance, what are you doing, sitting out here on deck with someone to whom you have not been formally introduced?"
"I would call it extenuating circumstances. The weather drove me to sit here and as it was the only place where a traveller could be seated, it was inevitable that you should sit here too. I don't own the ship, so can't order you to leave me."
"Logical reasoning. But I still think I was right about the boldness. Time will show whether I was right or wrong, I daresay."
"I think the wind is abating a little."
"Perhaps ... just a little."
"And I shall go in and see how my fellow travellers are faring."
"They are prostrate, are they?"
"I'm afraid so."
"It will be some time before they recover."
"Nevertheless I shall go to see them."
I stood up and almost fell, reeling against the deck rail. He was beside me, holding me, his face close to mine. He was the most disturbing man I had ever met.
"Be careful," he said, "one wild wave could carry you overboard. You should not come too near this rail. Allow me to escort you down."
He put his arm about me and held me tightly against him. We
rolled rather than walked along the deck. I felt breathless and rather glad of his strong arm.
"When I left England, I thought Ah, Paradise Lost," he said. "Now I am thinking Paradise Regained. I was not called Milton for nothing."
I laughed again. It had been a stimulating encounter.
I staggered down to the cabins. Miss Cartwright looked very wan and Felicity was not much better.
&
nbsp; She said: "This is terrible. How much of this do we have to endure? I thought I was going to die."
"It is getting better, I think."
"Thank Heaven for that."
"Where have you been?" asked Miss Cartwright.
"On deck. My cabin mate said it was the best thing to do."
"You look so rosy," said Felicity. "Almost as though you enjoyed
it.
I smiled and thought: Yes, I believe I did.
After two days the weather improved. Miss Cartwright was shaken. She had suffered more than Felicity and I was sure she was wishing she had never come on such a hazardous journey. Here we were, only three days out and the whole voyage stretched before her. She was really quite perturbed at the prospect.
By this time I had become well acquainted with Milton Harrington, who seemed to appear like the genie of the lamp wherever I happened to be.
I shall not pretend that I did not enjoy being sought after, particularly by a man who was treated with such respect throughout the ship. He appeared to be a friend of the Captain and well known to other members of the crew; and I believed that special privileges were accorded to him.
When we arrived at Madeira, our first port of call, he asked if we were going ashore. I said, Yes, of course. But Miss Cartwright put in very firmly that she was not at all sure that it was right for ladies to go unaccompanied.
He regarded her gravely and said: "Indeed, Madam, how wise you are! It would be unseemly for ladies to go alone and I am going to beg you to allow me to escort them."
"Oh but Mr. Harrington, I could not allow that. Our acquaintance is so brief."
"But, Madam, you and I between us could make sure that no harm befell the young ladies."
He gave me a mischievous glance for he knew me well enough to realize how infuriated such a conversation would make me.
Miss Cartwright, however, I noticed with some amazement, was rather fascinated by him. That surprised me. I should have thought such boldness, such arrogant masculinity, would not have found favour in her spinster's heart. Quite the contrary. She thought he was what she called "A real man," and she respected him for it.
She appeared to hesitate but the prospect of such a jaunt in his company was irresistible. "Well, Mr. Harrington, if we were both there..."
"Leave it to me. I will show you the island. It is ideal as a first port of call. It is so beautiful. Always a favourite port of mine. Now I shall share my appreciation."
It was a happy day. He took charge of us and was so courtly to Miss Cartwright, always considering her comfort first, that she blossomed and I believe thought her days of prostration were worth while since they had brought her to this.
He hired one of the bullock carts and we drove round the town. We went into the market to admire the magnificent flowers for sale there; we explored the dark red, stone Cathedral; we drove past the Governor's palace, the old fortress of Sao Lourenco and on to the site of the old Franciscan monastery where beautiful gardens had been made.
Milton Harrington wanted to look at the sugar canes which grew in profusion. So we drove out of the town.
He talked knowledgeably and told us a great deal about the production of sugar and how the juice from the plants was distilled in mills and boiling houses. He made me feel that I wanted to see his island.
"The canes were brought here from Sicily, Cyprus and Crete during the fifteenth century and at that time became the main industry of the island. Nowadays it is the wine for which they are famous. Who has not heard of Madeira wine? I tell you what, Miss Cartwright, I am going to be very daring. May I?"
"Oh Mr. Harrington," replied Miss Cartwright with a little laugh, "if you insist, how could / stop you?"
"I would obey your instructions, of course. But I was going to say that I have a good friend here. He has a wine cellar. He would like to show you how his wine is made and preserved. He might even invite you to try a glass."
"Oh dear, Mr. Harrington, that sounds almost improper."
"You have your protector here, Miss Cartwright, and nothing to fear."
So we left our bullock cart outside the wine lodge and went into
the cellar where we were greeted by a swarthy man in a big leather apron who talked in Portuguese at a great speed. Every now and then he would break into broken English. He was clearly pleased to see Milton Harrington.
When we had made a tour of the cellars we were invited to sit down on stools which were in the shape of barrels. These were placed at a round table and glasses of Madeira wine were brought to us.
We declared it delicious. Perhaps it was the effect of the wine but Felicity became quite talkative. She was obviously enjoying the outing. She said she was quite taken with the island and would like to spend some time here.
"Ah, but that would delay your arrival in Australia," Milton Harrington pointed out. "I am sure you are all eagerness to get there."
The moment's hesitation told me—and, I was sure, Milton Harrington—a good deal. I knew now what Felicity's secret was. She was a very frightened young woman and now that she was getting nearer to her new life she was beginning to wonder whether she had made a mistake.
"Oh yes... yes, of course," she said, too vehemently for conviction. But I could not forget the stricken look in her eyes.
"Where is the property?" asked Milton Harrington.
"It's a few miles out of Sydney."
"What is the name of it? Perhaps I know it."
"Granville's. That is the name of my fiance. The place is named after him."
"William Granville?" Milton Harrington spoke rather bleakly.
"Yes. I am going out to him."
"Do you know him?" I asked quickly.
"You might say I am on nodding acquaintance. I call in at Sydney on average about once a month. In the hotel there one meets up with graziers and people from around. I have met him."
"What a strange coincidence," cried Miss Cartwright.
"It is not really," Milton Harrington told her. "You see it is not like London. In fact the population of Australia can't come anywhere near that of London, nor Birmingham and Manchester ... or any of the big cities. It's sparsely populated. People come in from miles round and congregate in one hotel. It is not so strange that one comes across people."
"No, of course not," I said.
But I began to feel uneasy.
Miss Cartwright was persuaded to try a second glass of wine and after that she began to laugh a great deal.
We went back to the bullock cart and to the ship.
* « •
My uneasiness persisted. I was sure that Milton Harrington knew something about William Granville and that he had been somewhat reticent in the wine lodge because what he knew was unpleasant.
I determined that when I was alone with him I would ask him outright. It was better to know the worst. I was beginning to feel rather protective towards Felicity. It was that quality of helplessness in her which made me want to look after her and I felt that if there was something which was not quite what we expected we should know about it.
It was not difficult to waylay him and I did so.
I said: "I should like to speak to you ... somewhere where we can be alone."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and said: "I shall, of course, be delighted."
We found a secluded spot on the deck and sat down.
"It was not exactly what you said but the way in which you said it," I began. "I am referring to the conversation in the wine lodge when William Granville's name was mentioned. You know something about him, don't you?"
"I know a little of him."
"What do you know?"
"That he has a property not far from Sydney."
"We all know that. What do you know especially about him?"
"What do you want? Height? Colour of eyes? Hair?"
"You are being flippant. Miss Derring is going out to marry him. If there is anything wrong, I think we ought to be prepared. Please tell me."
"I could break it to her. We could decide ..."
"One is always wary of giving an opinion of another person. One could be quite wrong."
"Why did you say then ... ?"
"My dear Miss Annalice, I said nothing."
"No, you didn't. But you implied. You know him, but you seem to be holding something back ... something that you did not talk about."
"I don't know the man very well personally. I have only heard gossip... comment. People talk about each other in small communities and not always charitably."
"Will you stop beating about the bush and tell me frankly what these rumours are?"
"Nothing much. He is a good deal older than Miss Derring."
"She knows that. Sometimes marriages are quite successful when there is a disparity in ages. It is more than that, isn't it?"
"You are so persistent. I'll tell you that I heard he takes too much drink. People do, you know, in these lonely places."
"I see. And that was what made you act as you did?"
"I was not aware of any acting."
"It was your silence which said so much."
"I'm sorry if I caused Miss Derring anxiety."
"She didn't notice. But she does seem to be a little uncertain. I wish she would confide in me. I might be able to help."
"She knew him in England."
"Yes, when he came over looking for a wife."
"Well, she agreed to marry him. She was not forced into it."
"I feel quite anxious about her."
He put his hand over mine.
"You're very nice," he said.
I withdrew it at once.
"What else do you know about him?"
He shrugged his shoulders but he would say no more. Yet he gave me the impression that he knew something and was holding it back.
I rose and he was beside me. "Would you like to take a turn round the deck or join me in an aperitif?"
"No, thank you. I am going back to my cabin."
He had done nothing to diminish my uneasiness. Rather had he increased it.
After we left Madeira we ran into bad weather again. Felicity seemed to be much better able to cope with conditions than she had before. But Miss Cartwright was very ill. She was confined to bed for two days and after that, when the sea was calm, she was very weak and continued to be ill.
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