“You’ll wake up all the old dowagers,” Clive protested; but Wheeler said calmly:
“Very well—are you ready? … Go!”
Rocky ran for her life, her long skirts gathered up in both hands, her little feet twinkling like sprites, but this time she was hopelessly beaten.
“You would” she said ruefully. “Is there anything I can beat you at, I wonder?”
Wheeler laughed.
“You can always try” he said calmly.
They faced one another, both a little breathless and flushed, and then to Rocky’s dismay he asked abruptly:
“Would you care to let me take you ashore tomorrow? We get to Naples at ten, you know.”
Her face fell in childish disappointment.
“I should have loved it, but—well—Clive asked me only a few minutes ago and I said, ‘Yes.’”
“I’m sorry,” he said formally.
“So am I,” she answered; and then eagerly: “But we stop at other places, and then perhaps——”
“Hasn’t Durham booked you for the entire voyage?” he asked ironically.
“No, he has not,” she answered sharply; and she realised with a little bleak feeling how much she would have preferred to go with this man.
“Shall we walk back?” he asked, as if the matter was ended. “Durham will be wanting to punch my head if we stay away too long.”
It was on the tip of Rocky’s tongue to say, “And Gina to scratch my eyes out,” but she checked the impulse and said instead:
“Nobody would think you were recovering from an illness the way you ran just now.”
“Who told you I was recovering from an illness?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I forgot—someone. Is it true?”
“Strange as it may seem—it is true,” he answered.
“I’m sorry,” Rocky said politely.
Wheeler laughed.
“That I was ill? Or that I am recovering?”
“That you were ill.” And then, after the slightest pause, she said: “It’s always the same, isn’t it? I mean we always talk to one another in this sort of—sarcastic way.”
“Was it sarcasm when you said you were sorry I was ill?”
She stamped her foot.
“You know it wasn’t—you know I didn’t mean that at all.”
“I never know what you do mean,” he answered.
“You don’t trouble to find out,” she retorted. “Not that it matters——”
“How could it matter?” he said.
“Did you win?” Clive demanded; he had hurried Gina along the deck to meet them.
Rocky shook her head. “No, I was beaten at the post,” she declared lightly.
“You were beaten by at least two lengths,” Wheeler corrected her. “Don’t belittle my poor efforts.”
Gina laughed merrily. “Mr. Wheeler—he has such verry long legs,” she said. “I told Mr. Clive—I say—she will not win.”
Rocky bit her lip in vexation.
“Well, now I am really going to bed,” she announced; she smiled gaily. “Good night, everyone,” and before Clive could move or offer his escort she had gone.
“Of course it would happen,” she told herself resignedly as she shut her cabin door with a little unnecessary slam. “Why on earth couldn’t he have asked me first?” And then at once she was wondering why on earth he had asked her at all, seeing that he so obviously did not like her in the least.
Perhaps he had disagreed with Gina, or perhaps Gina did not want to go ashore—there must be some reason, she decided, and most unjustly she felt a little irritated with Clive. It was absurd of him to think that he could monopolise her all the time; she would have to be very cautious in future about accepting his invitations; not that it wasn’t very kind of him to have asked her, but all the same——
She looked across at the white frock swinging slowly to and fro in the breeze from the open porthole. It did not look too good, she decided, but perhaps it would be all right in the morning; perhaps everything would be all right in the morning, she told herself optimistically—people always said that nothing was ever so bad in the sane light of day. She got into bed, carefully fastening the eiderdown to its hooks. It wasn’t really cold tonight; it had been steadily growing warmer all day, but she liked the eiderdown. Rocky drew it up closely around her chin and fell asleep.
When she woke in the morning she scrambled up on to her knees and peered out through the porthole.
There was nothing but sea as far as the eye could reach, and she remembered that she was on the wrong side of the ship to see land.
When Mrs. Bingham brought the tea, Rocky asked excitedly if she could have her bath at once as she wanted to look at Naples.
“We’re not there yet,” Mrs. Bingham said, “but you can see the coast, of course, and you can have your bath now if you like.”
“I’ll come at once.”
She was quicker over it than ever that morning, and in less than half an hour she was dressed and on deck.
No sign of any other passengers. She hunted round for a clock —only twenty minutes to eight.
A sort of grey mistiness hung over the coastline, but the sun was slowly breaking through, and a sailor-man who was painting the side of one of the lifeboats told her that it was going to be fine.
“And warm too, I hope,” Rocky said.
He grinned at her, showing very white teeth in his sun-tanned face.
“Too warm directly,” he answered ruefully.
“Good morning,” said Sir John behind her.
Rocky swung round.
“I didn’t expect to see you so early,” she told him.
“Or I to see you,” he answered. “At least, that is not quite correct, because I should never be really surprised to see you at any hour of the day or night, in any odd corner of the ship.”
“I got up early to see Naples,” she explained.
He glanced towards the land.
“It’s too misty—I doubt whether we shall see Vesuvius at all,” he said dubiously. “He’s got his head in the clouds this morning.”
Rocky’s eager face fell.
“Oh, but we must,” she objected.
His eyes twinkled. “I’ll inform the powers that be,” he said with mock gravity.
“Of course, you’ve seen it all before,” she said.
“A hundred times at least,” he admitted.
“Really—a hundred times?”
“Well, no, not quite so many—but too often to feel any more excitement.”
“I don’t believe I shall ever get blasé like that,” she declared. “Of course I don’t know, but—where else have you been in the world?”
“New Zealand—India—Australia—Canada—South America— the West Indies—South Africa——’” He stopped; and Rocky said in awe:
“How perfectly wonderful!”
“And which of them all, do you imagine, still gives me the greatest thrill?” he asked, smiling down at her.
She shook her head. “India?” she hazarded.
“England,” he answered. “There is a saying that the frown of England is better than the smile of any other country, and I have proved it to be true.”
“Really?” she asked dubiously.
“Really and truly,” he answered. “England and the white cliffs of Dover, or the murky water of the Thames, whichever you prefer. London in a fog or on a rainy afternoon——” He stopped, to say slowly after a moment: “And I may never see them again.”
“Oh, but why not?” she asked.
His grave eyes came back to her excited face.
“I am getting an old man,” he said whimsically.
“You’re not old,” she protested. “At least, I don’t think you are, and surely if you can do as you like—I mean, if you are free to do as you like, you can go back to England—some day?”
“Perhaps I am not so free as you imagine,” he said; and then suddenly: “There! … the mist is br
eaking, so you may be fortunate after all. You are going ashore, of course.”
“Yes—Mr. Durham has asked me to go with him,” Rocky said hurriedly, for she did not want this man to ask whether he might take her and then have to refuse.
Poor Clive, she thought regretfully—it seemed unfair that she would have preferred either the company of Sir John or of Wheeler.
She was a little startled when he said gently:
“Don’t be too unkind to that boy, will you, Rocky?”
“Unkind?”
He smiled down at her.
“Mustn’t I say that?” he asked.
She moved a hand to touch his with affectionate remorse.
“You may say what you like—and I shan’t be unkind to him. How could I? We hardly know one another.”
“There are some people who seem like old friends as soon as one meets them,” he reminded her.
“I know,” she said; and she remembered how that first night at dinner she had looked across the saloon at this man and had thought to herself: “You’re nice. I’m going to like you.”
“I suppose you have made lots of friends on board ship,” she said presently.
“I have, and possibly some enemies,” he admitted.
“Enemies?” Her voice was incredulous. “But you’re always so nice to everyone.”
“Which is no guarantee of friendship,” he said, laughing. “Which reminds me—your poor little Miss Esther got into serious trouble yesterday over that White Lady. She told me last night that she would never dare to have another, and that she hoped it did not make her behave too badly.”
“Poor darling,” Rocky said.
“She seems to have taken a great fancy to you,” Sir John told her.
Rocky’s grey eyes shone. “Does she? I’m glad. I like her too— but I think the sister is rather awful, don’t you?”
“We must blame her upbringing,” Sir John said kindly. “The world is still full of such women: worthy souls, treading their own narrow little pathway—the only right pathway, so they think.”
Rocky shivered.
“I hate that word ‘worthy.’ ”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered. “Perhaps it’s better than being too much the opposite way. There’s a good deal to be said for the Miss Pawsons of life, you know. When you have knocked about as much as I have, Rocky, you will realise that it’s not the showy, go-ahead people who keep the boat steady, but those who sit still and don’t fidget.”
Rocky sighed.
“It sounds so dull!” she said. “I think I’d rather have a—well, even a criminal, or somebody who has done something really bad, than just a stick-in-the-mud.”
“That’s because you have probably never known a criminal or someone who has done something really bad,” he answered.
Rocky turned her face away and there was a long silence till the notes of the ship’s bugle sounded through the morning air.
“Breakfast already!” she gasped.
“It’s earlier this morning,” Sir John reminded her. “So that you won’t have too much of a rush to get ashore.”
All her high spirits returned.
“Isn’t it exciting?” she demanded. “If only the mists would clear away I should be perfectly happy.”
“I have been saying that all my life,” he answered.
She looked up at him.
“And haven’t they cleared away?” she asked impulsively.
Sir John shook his head, smiling a little ruefully, as he answered that unfortunately they always have a way of returning.
“It wouldn’t do to let us be too happy,” he said.
“I don’t like to hear you say that,” she answered; and he said:
“And I shouldn’t have said it. Forget it, Rocky—and look! there’s the sun breaking through at last.”
Chapter
7
At breakfast-time there was a friendly little squabble because Constance and Edith took it for granted they were to join Clive and Rocky in the excursion ashore.
“Well, then, who are we to go with?” Constance demanded in an injured voice, when her brother told her that he had intended to arrange for a car which would only hold two. “I think you’re a selfish pig,” she said with sisterly candour.
Rocky flung herself into the widening breach.
“We can get a bigger car and all go together,” she declared. “I think a party is such fun—you come, too,” she appealed to the Second Officer, but he smiled and shook his head.
“I shall be on duty,” he told her ruefully.
“Why not ask the entire ship,” Clive said coldly; he was very disappointed because Rocky was so obviously willing to share him.
“Don’t be a bear,” she answered, smiling her sweetest. “The sun is shining, and it’s going to be just perfect if nobody loses their temper——”
“I am waiting for the moment when you will lose yours,” the Second Officer told her.
Rocky laughed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait. I only lose it when something really dreadful happens—I never mind about little things.”
He half rose from his chair to make her a mocking bow.
“On behalf of myself and the rest of the company, I thank you,” he said.
“Oh, but I didn’t mean anyone here,” she explained hurriedly. “I only meant that it seems so silly to get cross about nothing when there are such big troubles in the world—aren’t there?” she appealed to the table.
“It sounds as if they have already come your way,” Constance said unkindly.
Sir John paused beside Rocky on his way from the saloon.
“Well, children, are you going to enjoy yourselves?” he asked.
“At the present moment it doesn’t look much like it,” Edith told him in her depressed way. “We’ve been having an argument as to who is to go with who——”
“And we’ve decided that we’ll all go together,” Rocky added breezily, “and we’re going up Vesuvius——”
“No, we’re not,” Constance broke in flatly. “I’ve been up Vesuvius and I want to go out to Pompeii.”
Rocky’s bright face fell a little but almost at once she was smiling. “Oh, all right—I haven’t seen either, so it doesn’t matter to me.”
Sir John touched her shoulder with an approving little gesture. “Put on stout shoes,” he advised. “You’ll find it rather hard walking.”
“I hate stout shoes,” Edith complained when he had gone. “They make your feet look so enormous.”
Rocky pushed back her chair and rose.
“Well, I’m going to look at Naples,” she said excitedly. “I’ll be on deck if anyone wants me,” and she pattered away.
There was a little silence after she had gone, till Constance said: “I wish she wasn’t always so determinedly cheerful.”
The Second Officer laughed.
“Isn’t cheerfulness a good fault?” he asked. “Personally I find her as refreshing as a sea-breeze. She’s always the same—always pleased with everything.”
“Rather dreadful, I think,” Edith murmured. “And she can’t really feel pleased all the time.”
“Trust women to be cats,” Clive said.
“You would stick up for her,” his sister answered.
Clive hurriedly finished his coffee and rose.
“If you girls are coming with me, be at the gangway in half an hour,” he said briefly.
“We shan’t be tied up by then,” the Second Officer reminded him. “You’d better say in an hour.”
Miss Esther came across to their table a little timidly.
“Do you know where Rocky is?” she asked. “I want to speak to her.”
“She’s on deck,” Clive said. “If you’re coming up——”
They walked away together, Miss Esther talking all the time rather shyly.
“I only want to ask Rocky what is the thing to do” she apologised. “She always seems to know everything, and I should like to go ashore, onl
y my sister doesn’t want to. It seems such a pity to be here and not go ashore, don’t you think?”
“It will be quite easy to get a car,” Clive told her.
“Oh, I know” she agreed. “But I can’t go alone, can I? I can’t speak one word of Italian—and, besides, I should be afraid to go alone.”
“You’ll find that most of them speak English,” he assured her, and a little shiver went down his spine as he wondered whether Rocky would calmly add yet another member to his already spoilt party. It would be so exactly like Rocky to say, “Come with us,” when she heard of Miss Esther’s plight.
“Bless her!” he thought.
They found Rocky standing looking out over the Bay, lost in ecstasy. Her cheeks were pale with excitement and her lips parted as if she found it difficult to breathe in the face of so much beauty.
“Isn’t it marvellous?” she asked in a hushed voice.
It was Miss Esther who answered in amazement that it was exactly like a postcard someone had sent her years ago.
“I’ve still got it,” she said. “And it’s just like the real thing.”
Clive flung her an impatient glance.
“I wanted to speak to you, Rocky,” Miss Esther went on. “I wanted to ask what is the best thing to do—you see I want to go ashore and my sister doesn’t.”
And Rocky said unhesitatingly, as Clive had dreaded, “Well, come with us. We’ll hire two cars instead of one and make a beanfeast of it.”
Miss Esther’s face flushed eagerly.
“Oh, but may I? Do you really mean it?” she asked.
“Of course we mean it—don’t we, Clive?” Rocky demanded.
“Oh, of course,” he agreed without much enthusiasm, but he felt a little comforted by that “we.”
He called to Wheeler, who was passing.
“Going ashore?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to join a personally conducted tour, I suppose, do you?” Clive asked with sarcasm. “Car, lunch, and a lecture on antiquity thrown in. Pleasant company——”
“Thanks, but I’m going with Mademoiselle,” Wheeler answered.
Return Journey Page 7