Full Tide

by Celine Conway

  “You mean that he loved you more than you loved him?”

  Laura Basson nodded. “He always used to say that if he died I must marry again. But now I’m in his position. I’d never be sure that a man who was anxious to marry me might not also have an eye to the bank book. However,” she shrugged, “there must be something useful I can do somewhere. Perhaps when I settle back in, England I’ll take up social work.”

  That was the most Lisa ever got out of Mrs. Basson during the voyage, but it did help her to a slight understanding of the woman. It was odd the way the two of them had gravitated together, and stuck. There were several other girls around Lisa’s age, but she did not feel drawn to them, and they seemed more inclined to dally with the male passengers, or with the purser or the “Sparks,” than to deepen acquaintance with other women. After dinner that night there was dancing, and Lisa glided round with various young men who weren’t so different from Jeremy except that he was decidedly better looking. Tonight, the Captain stayed away from the lounge and promenade deck, and Lisa, in the arms of a perspiring business man, thought yearningly of the comfortable den in which Mark was no doubt taking his ease with a book and a pipe after his day’s work.

  It must have been nearly eleven when Jeremy swayed out to the floodlit promenade deck and claimed Lisa for the last dance. He did not say much beyond, “A free day tomorrow, thank the Lord!” And then, after his hold had closed about her more firmly, “Bear with me, Lee. I’m too muddled to talk it out tonight, and tomorrow’s a holiday.” They danced the final encore and at the end of it he guided her out of the range of bright lights, and kept her hand in his. It was so late that all except a few confirmed dancers had gone to bed. But the air was so grand after the sticky heat of the day that Lisa felt revitalized. Jeremy, too, must have gained stamina after his arduous spell in Astra’s state room, for he slipped an arm about Lisa and put his lips to her temple.

  “That’s the first time we’ve danced, my sweet. You do it beautifully.”

  “I think you’re just a wee bit tight.”

  “I don’t have to be tight to long to kiss you.”

  “I hope not.” She moved, so that he could only have kept her nearby being rough, and Jeremy had, perforce, to drop his arm. “I don’t care for casual kisses, Jeremy.”

  “Nor do I,” he said, abruptly for him, “but I hoped you’d regard them differently—certainly not casually. Maybe we’d better turn in. Will you promise to go ashore with me tomorrow?”

  “Do you mean take the tour?”

  “If you like, though I’d rather we wandered about without the crowd—without Nancy, too.”

  “I can’t leave Nancy. She won’t be in the way.”

  “But why can’t I have you to myself for once?” He sounded pettish and fatigued. “Do your best to park her with someone.”

  “No. If I go with you, Nancy goes, too. Goodnight, Jeremy.”

  “Goodnight,” he said with a light but weary smile. “Goodnight, darling.”

  The morning dawned flawless and sparkling. The sea glittered and the wind had just enough strength to flap the scalloped edges of the awning. Lisa and Jeremy had a swim while Nancy, to her disgust, was roped into a children’s competition in which, blindfolded, she had to chalk a tail on to the outline of a pig. Ices had taken the place of mid-morning beef-tea, and today they were coffee-flavored and topped with whipped cream which must have come from tins but was nevertheless delicious.

  Lisa and Jeremy won the first round in deck tennis and afterwards joined others at the rail to watch the island which rose, gentle and green, from the sea. Gran Canaria was already in sight when the lunch-gong chimed, and most of the passengers hurried through the meal and proceeded to load up, with cameras, binoculars, and pesetas bought from the purser.

  Anchor was cast in the Puerto de la Buz, and a suave warning boomed from the loudspeakers. “Attention, please. Passengers are requested to re-embark before seven-thirty this evening. Seven-thirty, ladies and gentlemen. I will repeat that.”

  From the deck, Gran Canaria appeared uninviting, and perhaps that was why Lisa did not urge Jeremy to be among the first to step ashore. Now that the motion of the ship had ceased, the sun burned with a malignant force which, however, did not deter the hawkers in their ramshackle craft. Apparently they were not allowed to clutter the quay, but undismayed they swarmed about the ship’s side and along the waterfront, yelling their colorful wares. The guaguas, those creaking buses which lined up to carry people the three and a half miles to Las Palmas were filling steadily and starting away behind each other with a lurch and much shouting from the small swarthy drivers. The noise and withering heat dazed Lisa. She glanced with alarm at Nancy’s thin panama.

  “This is much too hot for Nancy. I’ll go back to the cabin for my umbrella,” she said. “It’s tartan silk, so won’t disgrace us as a sunshade.”

  Jeremy’s look at the child was exasperated. “Important scrap, isn’t she? I’ll go. Where is it?”

  “I’m not sure whether I unpacked it or left it in the trunk, so I’d better go myself. I won’t be long.” She flew up the gangway, along the deserted deck, across the lounge and down the staircase. Turning into her own corridor she collided full-tilt with Mark. He caught her shoulder and steadied her.

  “I beg your pardon,” she said breathlessly.

  “You shouldn’t dash about like that, with the temperature up in the nineties. What have you forgotten?”

  “A sunshade for Nancy.”

  “They’re provided on the official tour.”

  “We’re going by bus.”

  “Oh!” The word was non-committal. “You and who else ... the budding stage hero?”

  Before Lisa could reply she was conscious of the doctor coming along the alley, behind the Captain. Mark also was aware of his approach, for he stood aside so that she had plenty of room to pass. The doctor gave her a perfunctory smile and spoke to Mark.

  “Miss Carmichael will be all right, but I’ve advised her to stay aboard and keep cool. Are you going ashore?”

  As Lisa entered her own cabin she heard Mark’s reply; it seemed abnormally loud and clear. “I have a duty call to make, but I shall be back by three. You’ve nothing serious on. Why don’t you hit a high spot yourself, doc?”

  When she came out again into the corridor Mark had gone and the whole vessel was hushed. She thought of Astra, languidly recuperating from two days’ feverish work upon Jeremy, and of Mark who could, if he wished, have the woman to himself for several hours. What did one do, she asked herself bleakly, when that kind of reflection hurt deep inside?

  She rejoined Jeremy and Nancy, and boarded the last, garlic-smelling bus with them. Soon, as the vehicle bumped and swayed its way from the port to the capital city of Gran Canaria, she was able to take an interest in the white houses set above the sea, and in the crowded streets of Las Palmas.

  They left the bus and walked in the Triana, with its fine shops and cafes. The whole island must have known the British ship was in, for olive-skinned men in blue denim jostled on the curbs, each one claiming that his loquats and strawberries, apricots and bananas were the ripest, the cheapest and the best value for money. In the side streets stood picturesque women in red voluminous skirts and full white blouses, with huge baskets of flowers upon their heads. They had not the push and camaraderie of the men, but were very willing to swing their loads to the ground and allow the tourists to take their choice.

  Jeremy bought a spray of fantastically large crimson daisies. He snapped one from the bunch and tucked it securely into Lisa’s hair.

  “It’s better than hibiscus—it won’t fade so soon. I’ve accomplished the impossible, Lee—made you look exotic.” Having decided that if Nancy had to be endured it might as well be done gladly, he said kindly, “Would you like a flower in your hat, nipper?”

  She eyed him disdainfully. “No, and don’t call me nipper.”

  “You’re an ungracious brat,” he said, still without rancor.
“You haven’t been spanked enough.”

  “Come, now,” put in Lisa quickly. “We’re supposed to be having fun. Shall we do our shopping first?” She found it a wearing afternoon. They tramped in and out of shops, bought Nancy a bracelet of carved imitation jade, and chose a depressingly expensive length of green and white rainbow georgette for the evening frock. They got a lift to the cathedral and climbed to the tower to admire the red and gold sun as it slid to rest. They were too late to visit to Museo Canario, but did fit in a walk round the famous Pueblo before it was quite dark.

  Darkness in the Canaries is soft and warm and musical with the singing of insects and the rustling of palms. The streets of Las Palmas were bright and each cafe blared gramophone music. Jeremy suggested taking a drink at one of the open-air type, and Lisa thankfully sank upon an iron chair and wished for the unprocurable—a good cup of tea.

  They were served with Canary wines and lemon syrup. Across the road a boy was begging at another cafe, singing a plaintive song in impure Spanish with which Nancy was enthralled.

  “In a few years’ time he’ll be a topline crooner,” said Jeremy. “I’ve some small change left. Would you like to take it over to him, Nancy?”

  “There are others begging. We should share it between them,” stated Lisa.

  “Please let me take it, Lee,” begged Nancy.

  “Yes, let her take it.” Jeremy dropped several Spanish coins into Nancy’s hand. “Tell him to buy a supper with it, not wine.”

  “Don’t go, darling,” said Lisa. “The boy won’t understand English.”

  “The language of money is universal,” observed Jeremy. “Let her go. It’s not more than a dozen yards.” Nancy gripped the money and looked both ways before crossing the street.

  Lisa eased herself in the hard chair and tried to finish her drink, which was far too sweet and strong. The chances were against her ever coming to the Canaries again and the knowledge that most of her time ashore had been wasted was dispiriting. She had meant to make so much of this voyage, yet she had somehow got herself tangled up with Jeremy Carne, and the time which should have been spent in pure enjoyment had instead been taken up in listening to his new ambitions and keeping the peace between him and Nancy.

  “It will be different at Cape Town,” Jeremy was saying. “We’ll have longer, and I know the place inside out. I’ve relatives who live there.”

  “That’s nine days away, nine days of sea. Don’t we see any more land till then, Jeremy?”

  “No, but there’ll be high jinks on board. Competitions and tournaments, a fancy dress parade for children, a swimming gala and a deck derby. They arrange something for every day.”

  Lisa couldn’t finish the drink. It was a quarter to seven and she wanted to get back to the Wentworth. Suddenly she sat up very straight.

  “The singing boy has vanished,” she said. “And where is Nancy?”

  Jeremy went to the curb and peered across the street, With Lisa close beside him. “She isn’t there,” he said. “Would the little nitwit take a walk by herself?”

  “Of course not. She’d be afraid to, in a foreign town. Jeremy,” her voice shook, “do you suppose she missed the way back?”

  “How could she? We’re diagonally opposite.”

  “She might have got back on to this side and lost her bearings.” She jerked at his arm. “Do something! You take that side of the road and I’ll take this. We must find her!”

  “All right, all right. She’ll turn up. I’ll scour the other side and come back here. You take a look up and down but for Pete’s sake don’t you get lost, too.”

  Lisa was away, hurrying downhill, dodging the dark skinned people who thronged the pavement. Then back she went, past their cafe and on to the top of the street.

  No sign of Nancy, nor of any other passengers from the ship whose aid might be enlisted. She met Jeremy. “The little pest seems to have gone up in smoke,” he said, “and it’s time we got back to the dock. I tried to make enquiries, but no one understands a word I say. Don’t tremble, Lee,” he pulled her hand into the crook of his arm. “Just try to think what she’d do when she found she’d lost us.”

  “I don’t know. In England she’d take a bus home, but here in the dark...” Her breath caught in her throat. “She has no money!”

  “But if she did find the bus terminus there’d be English people who would take her. I’ll bet she’s attached herself to someone.”

  “I hope so. But what if...”

  “Hold on. She’s a child of nearly eleven and well equipped from what I’ve seen of her to take care of herself.”

  “Look here, there are British residents at the back of the town. We’ll contact one of them and ask advice.”

  “That will take time, and the ship might leave without us!”

  “Not it. Aboard by seven-thirty means that we sail at least an hour later. I tell you we can do it.”

  “But it’s such a roundabout way, and if she realizes she’s missed us she may be going towards the ship.” Lisa darted from his side to hail a passing taxi. “I’m going to the dock,” she panted as Jeremy caught up with her. “You stay and look for her and telephone the Wentworth if you find her.”

  “But, my good girl...”

  She flamed at him. “Will you do as I say? You’re partly to blame and you’ve darned well got to help me to find her.”

  She flung herself into the taxi and it sped away, leaving Jeremy perplexed and fed up in the middle of Las Palmas. He wouldn’t have believed anyone could make so much fuss over a kid of eleven; Nancy was all there even if she was the quiet sort.

  Lisa, clinging to the back seat of the ancient and mouldy cab, was nevertheless grateful that the driver had become infected with her need for speed. The three and a half miles back to the quay were accomplished in a few minutes.

  In lamplit darkness Lisa raced the last hundred yards and up the gangway to the deck. To a steward nearby she gasped an enquiry.

  “I’ve been here an hour,” came the answer. “She’s not come aboard during that time, miss.”

  But Lisa ran down to the cabin to make sure. By now, her heart was pounding through her body and her throat parched with fear. There was only one thing for it. Unhesitatingly, she leapt the staircase to the deck, hurried forward and took the companion-way to the bridge deck, which was no longer a holy of holies but simply the place where she would find Mark.

  Though the ship was in dock, the officer of the watch was pacing slowly backward and forward. He stared at her as if she were a wraith, but she gave him no time to order her below.

  “I must see Captain Kennard. It’s urgent!”

  “I’m very sorry, but—”

  “Please. I just have to see him.”

  Her whiteness and the hoarseness of her voice checked him. He pointed along the deck. “The first door. Knock and wait outside.”

  Lisa heard him but hardly heeded. Her knuckles rattled over the door, she dragged it wide and stepped into the Captain’s room. He looked up from a desk covered with papers, and was instantly on his feet. “Good God! What’s happened?”

  “It’s...” Her breathing played tricks. “We’ve lost Nancy ... in Las Palmas.”

  “Sit down.”

  “But don’t you see...”

  He pressed peremptorily at her shoulders. “Sit down and tell me.”

  She collapsed into the chair and clamped her knees together to still their quivering. Haltingly, it came out. Then her hand shakily held her throbbing forehead. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have let him send her across the road, or I should have watched where she went. I was ... I was so tired, and it seemed safe enough. She vanished so ... so completely ... so suddenly.”

  Mark was not listening. He was at the telephone, taking command as she had known he would.

  “Get through to the Las Palmas police,” he was telling someone. “Offer a fifty-pound reward for immediate news of the child and another fifty if she’s brought to the ship within an ho
ur. Send a search-party of male passengers, too. Got that? Right.”

  The receiver was replaced and he turned back to Lisa. “Don’t worry. She’ll be found,” he said calmly.

  And because it was Mark who made the statement, Lisa believed it. The relief of sharing the responsibility coupled with her exhaustion was a little too much. She slumped forward, dropped her face into her hands, and a tear or two trickled into her fingers. She felt his brief, hard grip on her shoulder and heard him say, “It won’t do any good to upset yourself, Lisa. Here’s some whisky. Take it down and relax as much as you can. I’ll be back presently.”

  When, some seconds later, she raised her ravaged face, she was alone in the Captain’s spacious workroom.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lisa tasted the whisky and shuddered from its burning rawness. She was facing the low row of windows overlooking the forepart of the ship, but she could see nothing through them because out there it was dark while this cabin was blindly illuminated.

  The furnishings were in dull red and grey. Red leather chairs, a Turkey rug and short grey curtains pulled well back. A book shelf ran along one bulkhead, the tomes it held looking very technical. The metal window frames winked in the light, the chronometer shone dully.

  Even in the midst of her distress Lisa found her glance wandering over the huge desk in search of a photograph or some other item which might reveal an unknown facet of Mark; she had learned so little about him. But there was nothing more personal than a gold cigarette case beside a carved stone ashtray.

  She pushed out of the chair and stood, rather forlornly, in the centre of the room. Through that inner door, she supposed, was his bedroom, and beyond that lay the officers’ quarters. At any time she would have loved an opportunity of examining this cabin at the head of the ship, but now she was too nervy, too horribly apprehensive, to care where she was. All she craved was news of Nancy.