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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #63385 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63385)
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. I (of 3), by 
-W. Clark Russell
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. I (of 3)
-
-Author: W. Clark Russell
-
-Release Date: October 6, 2020 [EBook #63385]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA, VOL 1 ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Charlie Howard and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
-produced from images generously made available by The
-Internet Archive)
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-NEW NOVELS.
-
-
-    THE DUCHESS OF POWYSLAND.  By GRANT ALLEN. 3 vols.
-
-    CORINTHIA MARAZION.  By CECIL GRIFFITH. 3 vols.
-
-    A SONG OF SIXPENCE.  By HENRY MURRAY. 1 vol.
-
-    SANTA BARBARA, &c.  By OUIDA. 1 vol.
-
-    IN THE MIDST OF LIFE.  By AMBROSE BIERCE. 1 vol.
-
-    TRACKED TO DOOM.  By DICK DONOVAN. 1 vol.
-
-    COLONEL STARBOTTLE’S CLIENT, AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE.  By BRET
-        HARTE. 1 vol.
-
-    ADVENTURES OF A FAIR REBEL.  By MATT. CRIM. 1 vol.
-
-    IN A STEAMER CHAIR.  By ROBERT BARR. 1 vol.
-
-    THE FOSSICKER: a Romance of Mashonaland.  By ERNEST GLANVILLE.
-        1 vol.
-
-
-London: CHATTO & WINDUS, 214 Piccadilly, W.
-
-
-
-
-  ALONE
-  ON A WIDE WIDE SEA
-
-  VOL. I.
-
-
-
-
-  PRINTED BY
-  SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE
-  LONDON
-
-
-
-
-  ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA
-
-  BY
-  W. CLARK RUSSELL
-
-  AUTHOR OF
-  MY SHIPMATE LOUISE ‘THE ROMANCE OF JENNY HARLOWE’ ETC.
-
-  [Illustration]
-
-  IN THREE VOLUMES
-  VOL. I.
-
-  London
-  CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY
-  1892
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS
-
-OF
-
-THE FIRST VOLUME
-
-
-  CHAPTER                                     PAGE
-
-     I. PIERTOWN                                 1
-
-    II. A BOATING TRIP                          39
-
-   III. ‘WHO AM I?’                             76
-
-    IV. ALPHONSE’S CONJECTURES                 111
-
-     V. ON BOARD ‘NOTRE DAME’                  135
-
-    VI. A TERRIBLE NIGHT                       193
-
-   VII. CAPTAIN FREDERICK LADMORE              225
-
-  VIII. A KIND LITTLE WOMAN                    262
-
-
-
-
-ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER I
-
-PIERTOWN
-
-
-In the West of England stands a city surrounded by hills. Its streets
-are wide, its shops fine and plentiful, and there are many handsome and
-some stately terraces of houses in it. In the heart of the city a gem
-of ecclesiastical architecture rears its admirable tower, and this fine
-old structure is known everywhere as the Abbey Church.
-
-How am I to convey to one who has never beheld them the beauties of
-the scene when viewed from some commanding eminence--say on a rich
-autumn afternoon whilst the sun paints every object a tender red, and
-before the shadows have grown long in the valley? Orchards colour the
-landscape with the dyes of their fruit and leaves. White houses gleam
-amidst trees and tracts of vegetation. The violet shadow of a cloud
-floats slowly down some dark green distant slope. In the pastures
-cattle are feeding, and the noise of the barking of dogs ascends from
-the river-side. Rows and crescents of buildings hang in clusters upon
-the hills, blending with the various hues of the country and lending
-a grace as of nature’s own to the scene. The river flows with a red
-glitter in its breast past meadows and gardens and nestling cottages.
-
-Many roads more or less steep conduct to the several eminences, in
-the valley of which peacefully stands this western city. One of them
-in a somewhat gentle acclivity winds eastwards, and as the wayfarer
-proceeds along this road he passes through a long avenue of chestnuts,
-which in the heat of the summer cast a delicious shade upon the
-dust, and here the air is so pure that it acts upon the spirits like
-a cordial. The ocean is not very many miles distant, and you taste
-the saltness of its breath in the summer breeze as it blows down the
-hill-sides, bringing with it a hundred perfumes, and a hundred musical
-sounds from the orchards and the gardens.
-
-About a mile beyond this avenue of chestnuts there stood--I say there
-stood, but I do not doubt there still stands--a pretty house of a
-modern character, such as would be offered for letting or for selling
-as a ‘villa residence.’ I will speak of it as of a thing that is past.
-It was situated on the edge of the hill; on one side the white road
-wound by it; on the other side its land of about one acre and a half
-sloped into meadows and pastures, and this wide space of fields sank
-treeless, defined by hedges, well stocked in the seasons with sheep and
-cows and other cattle, to the silver line of the river.
-
-Now have I brought you to my home, to the home in which I was living a
-little while before the strange and terrible experience that, with the
-help of another pen, I am about to relate befel me. And that you may
-thoroughly understand the story which I shall almost immediately enter
-upon, it is necessary that I should submit a little home picture to you.
-
-It was a Sunday afternoon early in the month of October in a year that
-is all too recent for the endurance of memory. A party of four, of
-which one was a little boy aged two, were seated at table drinking tea
-in the dining-room of the house, which stood a mile beyond the chestnut
-avenue. Upon the hearth-rug, where was stretched a soft white blanket,
-lay a baby of eight months old, tossing its fat pink legs and dragging
-at the tube of a feeding-bottle. A lady sat at the head of the table.
-
-This lady was in her twenty-sixth year--no one better knew the date
-of her birth than I. She was a handsome woman, and presently you will
-understand why I exhibit no reluctance in speaking of her beauty.
-I will be brief in my description of her, but I will invite your
-attention to a sketch that, in its relations to this tale, carries, as
-you will discover, a deeper significance than ordinarily accompanies
-the portraits of the heroes or heroines of romance.
-
-She was in her twenty-sixth year, I say. Her hair was dark, not black.
-I am unable to find a name for its peculiar shade. It was so abundant
-as to be inconvenient to its owner, whose character was somewhat
-impatient, so that every morning’s wrestle with the long thick tresses
-was felt as a trouble and often as a cause of vexatious delay. Her
-eyebrows were thick and arched, and, as she wore her hair low, but a
-very little of her white well-shaped brow was to be seen. Her nose was
-after the Roman type, but not too large nor prominent, yet it gave her
-an air as though she held her head high, and it also communicated an
-expression of eagerness to the whole countenance. Her complexion was a
-delicate bloom, her mouth was small, the teeth very white and regular.
-She had a good figure, a little above the medium height of women,
-with a promise in her shape of stoutness when her years should have
-increased. She was simply dressed, and wore but little jewellery, no
-more than a thin watch-chain round her neck and a wedding-ring and two
-other rings on the same finger.
-
-Such was the lady in her twenty-sixth year who sat at the head of the
-tea-table on that October Sunday afternoon.
-
-At her side was her little boy, two years old. He was a beautiful child
-with golden hair and dark blue eyes. He sat in a high child’s chair on
-his mother’s left, and whilst he waited for her to feed him he beat the
-table with a spoon.
-
-At the table on the right sat the husband of this lady, a man entering
-upon his thirty-first year. He was tall, thin, and fair, and wore small
-whiskers, and his eyes were a dark grey. Handsome he was not, but he
-had a well-bred air, and his face expressed a gentle and amiable nature.
-
-Confronting the lady at the head of the table was her twin sister.
-Nearly always between twins there is a strong family likeness. I
-have heard of twins who resembled each other so closely as to be
-mistaken one for the other unless they were together, when, to be
-sure, there must be some subtle difference to distinguish them. There
-was undoubtedly a family likeness between these two sisters, but it
-appeared rather in their smile and in certain small tricks of posture
-and of gesture, and in their walk and in the attitudes which they
-insensibly fell into when seated; in these things lay a family likeness
-rather than in their faces. Their voices did not in the least resemble
-each other’s. That of the lady who sat at the head of the table was
-somewhat high-pitched; her accents were delivered with impulse and
-energy, no matter how trivial might be the subject on which she
-discoursed. Her sister, on the other hand, had a sweet, low, musical
-voice; she pronounced her words with a charming note of plaintiveness,
-and she never spoke much at a time nor often. Her hair was not so
-plentiful as her sister’s; it was a light bright brown, with a gloss
-upon it like that of the shell of a horse-chestnut, but it had not
-the rich deep dye of that nut. She wore it with a simplicity that was
-infinitely becoming to her beauty. Beautiful she was, far more so
-than her sister; hers was a beauty far more tender and womanly than
-her sister’s; you thought of the meekness and the sweetness of the
-dove in looking at her, and the expression of her dark-brown eyes was
-dove-like. She was shorter than her sister, but equally well shaped,
-and she was the younger.
-
-These four sitting at table, and the little baby of eight months
-tossing its tiny toes shod with knitted shoes upon a blanket on the
-hearth-rug, formed the occupants of that parlour, and were the living
-details of the domestic picture that the curtain of the terrible drama
-of my life rises upon. The rays of the westering sun streamed upon the
-windows of the room, and the atmosphere was warm with crimson light.
-One window stood open, but the church bells had not yet begun to ring
-for evening service, and the peace of the English Sabbath lay upon
-the land outside: a peace scarcely disturbed by the distant barking
-of dogs, by the occasional moaning lowing of near cattle, and by the
-drowsy murmuring hum of bees and flies amongst the flowers under the
-windows.
-
-Who were these people, and what was their name? The name of the
-gentleman was John Campbell, and the lady seated at the head of the
-table was his wife, Agnes--Agnes Campbell, whose story she herself
-now relates, and the sweet sister at the foot of the table was Mary
-Hutchinson.
-
-I had been married at the time when my story opens a little above
-three years. My father was Colonel Hutchinson, of the Honourable
-East India Company’s service. He had distinguished himself in India
-in a period of terrible peril, but he had died before he could reap
-the reward of his valour and his judgment. He died a poor man, his
-whole fortune amounting to no more than five thousand pounds; but the
-pension my mother drew, conjointly with the interest of my father’s
-little fortune, enabled her to live in tolerable comfort, and after
-my father’s death we took up our abode in the noble old city of Bath,
-where we dwelt happily, making many friends and enjoying a round of
-simple pleasures.
-
-Society in Bath is largely, almost wholly, composed of ladies; young
-men are scarce, and marriage at the best is but vaguely dreamed of,
-though hope is sufficiently constant to support the spirits.
-
-It chanced that Mary and I were invited one evening to play a round
-game of cards at the house of a friend. We went, expecting to find the
-company formed entirely of girls like ourselves, with perhaps one or
-two old fogeys. But soon after our arrival a gentleman was shown into
-the room, and introduced to us as Mr. John Campbell. He was the only
-young man present; the other gentlemen were composed of a general, a
-colonel, and an admiral, whose united ages I afterwards calculated
-would have exactly amounted to two hundred years. I did not notice that
-Mr. Campbell paid me much attention that evening. Mary afterwards said
-he seldom had his eyes off me, but _that_ I did not observe. On the
-contrary, I thought he looked very often and very admiringly at _her_.
-
-Well, he saw us to the door of our house, to use the homely phrase, and
-on the following afternoon he called upon us; but if it was love at
-first sight on his part, I cannot say that he illustrated his fervour
-by his behaviour. He was very polite, very kind, very attentive; seemed
-happy in my society, was a frequent visitor at our house, would steal
-an hour from business to find himself an excuse to meet us in the
-gardens or park where we walked; but that was all.
-
-If I had been led by the reading of novels to suppose that a man looks
-love when he means love, I might have searched Mr. Campbell’s face in
-vain for any expression of deep-seated sentiment. Indeed, after three
-months, I could not have said that he was more in love with me than
-with my sister. But by the end of that time I must own that I was very
-much in love with him. And though so tenderly did I love my sister that
-I would gladly have relinquished him to her, had her love for him been
-as mine, yet to no other woman could I have parted with him without the
-belief--which to be sure I used to laugh at after I was married--that
-my heart would break if he did not make me his. But my heart was not to
-be broken because of his not loving me and making me his, for within
-six months from the date of our meeting we were married, and I was
-the happiest girl in all England, and my sister as happy as I in my
-happiness.
-
-My husband was a solicitor. His practice in those days was small and
-would not have supported him even as a bachelor; but he had been the
-only son of a man who was able to leave him an income of several
-hundreds a year. We went abroad for a month, and I returned to find
-my poor mother dead. This loss left my sister without a relative in
-the world saving myself. It is seldom that this can be said of man or
-woman. To be without a relative in this complicated world of aunts
-and uncles, of nieces and nephews, and of cousins no matter how far
-removed, seems incredible. There may be plenty of people who are alone
-in the sense of not knowing who their relatives are, though they would
-find they had relations in plenty were they to seek them or were they
-to come into a fortune; but it is rare indeed to hear of anyone who
-out of his or her perfect knowledge of the family connections can
-positively assert, ‘I have not a relative in the world.’
-
-Yet thus it was with my sister and me when my mother died. But I will
-not delay my story to explain how this happened. Therefore, being
-alone in the world, my sister came to live with my husband and me. How
-greatly her making one of us added to my happiness I cannot express.
-I will not pretend that it did grieve me to leave my poor mother: no,
-nature works forwards; the fruit falls from the tree, the young bird
-flutters from its nest; it is nature’s law that a child should part
-from its parent, and deep as the sadness of separation may seem at the
-time, it will show but as a light-hearted grief at the best when looked
-back upon and contrasted with other sorrows of life.
-
-But it was a bitter pain to me to part with my sister. We had grown up
-side by side; we were as blossoms upon one stalk, and the sap of the
-single stalk fed the two flowers.
-
-And now as we sat drinking tea in the parlour of our house on that fine
-October Sunday afternoon, our conversation was as homely as the picture
-we made. Nevertheless it involved a topic of considerable interest
-to us. My little boy Johnny had been looking somewhat pale, and his
-appetite was not as I, his mother, considered it should be. The summer
-had been a very hot one, and when it is even moderately warm in most
-parts of England, it is commonly very broiling indeed in our city of
-the Abbey Church, where there are tall hills to protect the population
-from the breeze, where the roads are steep, glaring, and dusty, and
-where the width of many of the streets is quite out of proportion to
-the stature of the houses, so that you do not know where to look for
-shade.
-
-My husband’s business would not suffer him to leave home until the
-early autumn, and he could not prevail upon me to go away without him;
-but now he was able to take a holiday for a month, and the doctor had
-recommended the seaside for little Johnny and the baby, and as we sat
-drinking tea we talked of the best place to go to.
-
-‘It does not matter to me what part of the coast you choose,’ said my
-husband. ‘I only stipulate that you shall not select a town that is
-confidently recommended by the whole of the medical faculty, and whose
-medical officer every year sends to the newspapers a statement that
-the death-rate is the lowest in England, and that it is the healthiest
-seaside resort in the United Kingdom.’
-
-‘Then you shut every seaside town against us,’ said my sister, ‘for
-every seaside town is the healthiest in England.’
-
-I named Margate; my husband made a grimace.
-
-‘No,’ he exclaimed, ‘I should not like to return to Bath and say we
-have been to Margate. It was only the other day I heard General Cramp
-swear that Margate was not the vulgarest place in all England, oh no!
-but the vulgarest place in all the world.’
-
-‘Its air is very fine,’ said I, ‘and it is fine air that we want.’ And
-here I looked at Johnny. ‘What does it matter to us what sort of people
-go to Margate, if its air is good?’
-
-‘I will not go to Margate,’ said my husband.
-
-My sister named two or three towns on the coast.
-
-‘Let us,’ said my husband, ‘go to some place where there is no hotel
-and where there is no pier.’
-
-‘And where there is no circulating library,’ cried I, ‘and where there
-are two miles of mud when the water is out.’
-
-And then I named several towns as my sister had, but my suggestions
-were not regarded. At this point baby began to roar, and my husband
-rose to ring for the nurse, but it was nurse’s ‘Sunday out,’ and Mary
-and I were taking her place. Mary picked baby up off the blanket, and
-holding its cheek to hers, sung softly to it in her low sweet voice.
-The darling was instantly silent. The effect of my sister’s plaintive
-melodious voice upon fretful children was magical. I remember once
-calling with her upon a lady who wished that we should see her baby.
-The baby was brought into the room, and the moment it saw us it began
-to yell. My sister stepped up to it as it sat on the nurse’s arm, and
-looking at it in the face with a smile began to sing, and the infant,
-silencing its cries, stared back at her with its mouth wide open in
-the very posture of a scream, but as silent as though it had been a
-doll. When she ceased to sing and turned from it, it roared again, and
-again she silenced it by singing.
-
-My baby lay hushed in her arms, and the sweet eyes of Mary looked at
-us over the little fat cheek that she nestled to her throat, and we
-continued to discourse upon the best place to go to.
-
-My husband named a small seaside town, and I could see by the
-expression of his face he meant that we should go there. It was many
-years since he had visited it, but he recollected and described the
-beauties of the scenery of the coast with enthusiasm. It was on the
-Bristol Channel, at no very considerable distance from the city in
-which we dwelt, and he said he wished to go there because, should there
-come a call upon him from the office, he would be able to make the
-double journey, with plenty of leisure between for all he might have
-to do, in a day, computing that day from eight till midnight.
-
-‘Oh! it is a beautiful romantic spot, Agnes,’ said he. ‘Its sands, when
-the water is out, are as firm as this floor. It has high, dark cliffs,
-magnificently bold and rugged, and when the breaker bursts upon the
-sand, the cliffs echo its voice, and you seem to hear the note of an
-approaching tempest.’
-
-‘But it is a cheerful place, John? Cliffs and sands are very well, but
-in a month one wearies of cliffs and sands, and in a month again how
-many days of wet will there be?’
-
-‘It is cheerful--very,’ said my husband. ‘Its cheerfulness is inborn,
-like good-nature in a man. It owes nothing of its brightness to
-excursionists, to steamboats, to Punch and Judy, and to German bands.
-It has three good streets and a number of clean lodging-houses.’
-
-‘Has it a pier and a hotel?’ asked Mary.
-
-‘It has what the cockneys call a jetty,’ answered my husband. ‘I should
-prefer to term it a pier. What is the difference between a pier and a
-jetty? This jetty is short, massive, very richly tarred, and just the
-sort of jetty for Johnny to fall over the edge of if he is not looked
-after. There is a wooden canopy at the extremity of it under which,
-Mary, you will be able to sit and read your favourite poet without risk
-of being intruded upon. The verses of your favourite poet will be set
-to music by the rippling of the water among the massive supports of the
-pier, and you will have nothing to do but to be happy.’
-
-‘Are there any boats?’ I asked.
-
-‘Many capital boats,’ he answered.
-
-‘Sailing boats?’ said I.
-
-‘Sailing boats and rowing boats,’ said he.
-
-‘I shall often want to go out sailing,’ said I. ‘What is more heavenly
-than sailing?’
-
-‘You will have to go alone so far as I am concerned, Agnes,’ said Mary.
-
-‘Yes, but John will often accompany me,’ said I.
-
-‘Not very often,’ he exclaimed. ‘Had I been a lover of sailing I should
-have gone to sea, instead of which I am a solicitor, and I spell sails
-with an “e” and not with an “i.” Well, is it settled?’ he continued,
-drawing a pipe case from his pocket and extracting the pipe from it. ‘I
-believe there will be time for half a pipe of tobacco before we go to
-church.’
-
-But the nurse being out I could not go to church, and my sister would
-not leave me alone with the children, and my husband, instead of
-filling half a pipe filled a whole one, and took no heed of the church
-bells when their happy peaceful chimes floated through the open
-window. Indeed it was _not_ settled; the subject was too interesting to
-be swiftly dismissed, yet my husband had his way in the end, as usually
-happened, for before evening service was over we had arranged to spend
-a month at the little town whose praises he had sung so poetically.
-
-Next day he made a journey to the shores of the Bristol Channel to seek
-for lodgings. But the accommodation he required was not to be found in
-apartments, and when he returned he told me that he had taken a house
-standing near the edge of the cliff in a garden of its own. A few
-days later our little family proceeded to the sea coast. We left two
-servants behind us to look after the house, and the only domestic we
-took with us was the nurse, a person of about my own age, who had been
-with me at this time about six weeks, having replaced an excellent,
-trustworthy young woman who had left me to get married.
-
-I will call the little place from which dates the story of my terrific
-experiences, Piertown.
-
-What with having to change here, and to get out there, and to wait
-somewhere else, the journey was a tedious one, and when we arrived it
-was raining hard and blowing very strong, and I remember as we drove
-from the railway station catching sight through the streaming window
-glass of the white waves of the sea rushing like bodies of snow out
-of the pale haze of the rain and the spray, and I also remember that
-I heard a strange low voice of thunder in the air, made by the huge
-breakers as they tumbled in hills of water upon the beach and rushed
-backwards into the sea in sheets of froth.
-
-It was so cold that we were very glad to find a cheerful fire in the
-parlour, that was rendered yet more hospitable to the sight by the
-table being equipped for a two o’clock dinner. The house was small, but
-very strongly built, with thick plate-glass windows in the lower rooms,
-against which the wind and the rain were hissing as though an engine
-were letting off steam close by. A couple of maid-servants had been
-left in the house. Never could I have imagined that servants would be
-willing to sleep as those two did in one small bed, in a tiny garret
-where all the light they had fell through a skylight window about the
-size of a book. But I have noticed in the country, that is to say, in
-rural parts and quiet towns such as Piertown, servants are grateful and
-dutiful for such food and lodging as would cause them to be incessantly
-grumbling and changing their places in cities like Bath.
-
-Baby and little Johnny were taken upstairs by the nurse, and my husband
-and Mary and I went to the window and stood gazing at the sea. We had
-a very clear view of it. The house stood within a few yards of the edge
-of the cliff, and the extremity of the garden between was bounded by a
-dwarf wall of flint which left the prospect open.
-
-‘What do you think of that sight, Agnes?’ said my husband. ‘Would
-sailing be heavenly to-day, do you think?’
-
-‘Never more heavenly if one could feel safe,’ said I. ‘How swiftly a
-boat would rush before such a wind as this! Hark to the roaring in the
-chimney! It makes me feel as if I were in the cabin of a ship. It is
-delightful. It is like being at sea and enjoying the full spirit of it
-without suffering the horrors of being tossed and bruised, and without
-any chance of being upset and shipwrecked.’
-
-‘You should have married a sailor,’ said my husband dryly.
-
-‘What have you been reading lately, Agnes, to put this sudden love
-of the sea into your head?’ said Mary. ‘You used not to care for the
-water.’
-
-‘I have been reading nothing to make me love the sea,’ I answered;
-‘but when I look at such a sight as that I feel that if I were a man I
-should consider that the earth was formed of something more than land,
-and that the best part of it is not where trees grow and where houses
-are built.’
-
-My husband laughed. ‘One hour of _that_ would cure you,’ said
-he pointing. ‘One _hour_, indeed! Ten minutes of it. I tell you
-what--there is a very heavy sea running to-day. It _must_ be so, for we
-are high-perched here, and look how defined are the shapes of the waves
-as they come storming out of the mist towards the land.’
-
-‘I wish a ship would pass,’ said I. ‘I should like to see her roll and
-plunge.’
-
-And for some time after my husband and Mary had withdrawn from the
-window I stood gazing at the bleared and throbbing scene of ocean,
-hoping and longing to see a ship go by, little suspecting that my
-wishes were as wicked as though they were those of a wrecker, for had
-any ship been close enough in to the coast to enable me to see her
-amid the thickness that was upon the face of the streaming and rushing
-waters, nothing could have saved her from being driven ashore, where in
-all probability her crew would have perished.
-
-But in the afternoon the weather cleared; it continued to blow a strong
-wind right upon the land, but the sky opened into many blue lakes, and
-changed into a magnificent picture of immense bodies of stately sailing
-cream-coloured cloud, upon which the setting sun shone, colouring their
-skirts with a dark rich gold, and the horizon expanded to as far as
-the eye could pierce, with one staggering and leaning shaft of white
-upon the very rim of the sea.
-
-‘Let us go and look at the town,’ said my husband; and Mary and I put
-on our hats and jackets and the three of us sallied forth.
-
-We had to walk some distance to reach the little town, and when we
-arrived there was not very much to see. The three streets were neither
-spacious nor splendid; on the contrary, they struck me as rather mean
-and weather-beaten. But then people do not leave cities in order to
-view the shops and streets of little seaside towns. Piertown lay in a
-sort of chasm. It was as though a party of fishermen in ancient days,
-wandering along the coast in search of a good site for the erection of
-their cottages, and falling in with this great split in the cliff, as
-though an earthquake had not long before happened, had exclaimed, ‘Let
-us settle here.’ There was a peculiar smell of salt in the streets, and
-the roadways and pavements presented a sort of faint sparkling surface,
-as though a great deal of brine had fallen upon them and dried up.
-There was also a smell of kippered herring in the strong wind, and it
-seemed to proceed from every shop door that we passed.
-
-Very few people were to be seen. We were much stared at by the shopmen
-through their windows, and here and there a little knot of lounging men
-dressed as boatmen hushed their hoarse voices to intently gaze at us.
-
-‘This is what I like,’ said my husband. ‘Here is all the privacy
-that we could desire, and the most delightful primitiveness also. A
-professional man when he takes a holiday ought to give crowded places a
-very wide berth, and put himself as close to nature--to nature, rugged,
-homely and roaring, after this pattern,’ said he with a sweep of his
-hand, ‘as his requirements of eating and drinking and sleeping will
-permit.’
-
-‘It seems a very dull place,’ said I when, having reached the top of
-one of the three steep streets, we turned to retrace our steps. ‘If the
-weather does not allow me to have plenty of boating I shall soon wish
-myself home again.’
-
-‘You will not find a circulating library here,’ said Mary, looking
-around her. ‘I should not suppose that many people belonging to
-Piertown are able to read.’
-
-‘The place is made up of grocers’ shops,’ said my husband. ‘What a
-queer smell of bloaters!’
-
-I amused myself by counting no less than five grocers’ shops in one
-street, and I did not see a single person resembling a customer in any
-one of them. I pulled my husband’s arm to stop him opposite a shop in
-whose windows I believed I saw three men hanging by the neck. They
-proved to be complete suits of oilskins, each surmounted by one of
-those nautical helmets called sou’-westers, and at a little distance,
-as they dangled in the twilight within the windows, they exactly
-resembled three mariners who had committed suicide.
-
-We now walked down to the pier, and there the great plain of the
-ocean stretched before us without the dimmest break of land anywhere
-along its confines, and the white surf boiled within the toss of a
-pebble from us. The pier projected from a short esplanade; along this
-esplanade ran a terrace of mean stunted structures, eight in all; and
-my husband, after looking and counting, exclaimed: ‘Five of them are
-public-houses. Yes! this is the seaside.’
-
-The pier forked straight out for a short distance, then rounded sharply
-to the right, thus forming a little harbour, in the shelter of which
-lay a cluster of boats of several kinds. The massive piles and supports
-of the pier broke the weight of the seas, which rushed hissing white as
-milk amongst the black timbers; but the water within was considerably
-agitated nevertheless, and the boats hopped and plunged and jumped and
-rubbed their sides one against another, straining at the ropes which
-held them, as though they were timid living creatures like sheep,
-terrified by the noise and appearance of the waters, and desperately
-struggling at their tethers in their desire to get on shore.
-
-We stood looking, inhaling deeply and with delight the salt sweetness
-of the strong ocean breeze. The land soared on either hand from the
-little town, and ran away in dark masses of towering cliff, and far
-as the eye could follow went the white line of the surf, with a broad
-platform of grey hard sand betwixt it and the base of the cliff. Here
-and there in one or another of the public-house windows glimmered a
-face whose eyes surveyed us steadfastly. We might make sure by the
-manner in which we were looked at, that Piertown was not greatly
-troubled by visitors.
-
-There was a wooden post near the entrance of the pier, and upon it
-leaned the figure of a man clad in trousers of a stuff resembling
-blanket, a rusty coat buttoned up to his neck, around which was a large
-shawl, and upon his head he wore a yellow sou’-wester. He might have
-been carved out of wood, so motionless was his posture and so intent
-his gaze at the horizon, where there was nothing to be seen but water,
-though I strained my sight in the hope of perceiving the object which
-appeared to fascinate him. A short clay pipe, of the colour of soot,
-projected from his lips. He seemed to hold it thus as one might wear
-an ornament, for no smoke issued from it.
-
-We drew close, and my husband said: ‘Good afternoon.’
-
-The man looked slowly round, surveyed us one after another, then
-readjusting himself upon his post and fastening his eyes afresh upon
-the horizon, he responded in a deep voice: ‘Good arternoon.’
-
-‘Is there anything in sight?’ said my husband.
-
-‘No,’ answered the man.
-
-‘Then what are you looking at?’
-
-‘I ain’t looking,’ answered the man; ‘I’m a-thinking.’
-
-‘And what are you thinking of?’
-
-‘Why,’ said the man, ‘I’m a-thinking that I han’t tasted a drop o’ beer
-for two days.’
-
-‘This, indeed, is being at the seaside,’ said my husband cheerfully,
-and putting his hand in his pocket he produced a sixpence, which he
-gave to the man.
-
-The effect was remarkable; the man instantly stood upright, and went
-round to the other side of the post to lean over it, so that he might
-confront us. And it was remarkable in other ways; for no sooner had my
-husband given the man the sixpence than the doors of two or three of
-the public-houses opposite opened, and several figures dressed like
-this man emerged and approached us very slowly, halting often and
-looking much at the weather, and then approaching us by another step,
-and all in a manner as though they were acting unconsciously, and
-without the least idea whatever that my husband had given the man some
-money.
-
-He was a man of about forty-five or fifty years of age, with a
-very honest cast of countenance, the expression of which slightly
-inclined towards surliness. You will wonder that I should take such
-particular notice of a mere lounging boatman; and yet this same plain,
-common-looking sailor, was to become the most memorable of all the
-persons I had ever met with in my life.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER II
-
-A BOATING TRIP
-
-
-It was not yet evening, but the sun was very low in the west on our
-right hand; a large moon would be rising a little while before eight;
-the breeze continued to blow strong, and the ocean rolled into the land
-in tall dark-green lines of waves, melting as they charged in endless
-succession into wide spaces of foam, orange coloured by the sunset.
-
-‘Do you hear that echo of thunder in the cliff I told you about?’ said
-my husband.
-
-I listened and said ‘Yes.’
-
-‘It is like a distant firing of guns,’ said Mary.
-
-‘You have some good boats down there dancing beside the pier,’ said my
-husband to the boatman.
-
-‘Ay,’ answered the boatman, ‘you’ll need to sail a long way round the
-coast to find better boats than them.’
-
-‘That is a pretty boat, Mary,’ said I, pointing to one with two
-masts--a tall mast in the fore-part and a short mast at the stern; she
-was painted green and red, and she was very clean and white inside, and
-she appeared in my eyes the prettiest of all the boats as she dived and
-tumbled and leaped buoyantly and not without grace upon the sharp edges
-of the broken water.
-
-‘That’s my boat, lady,’ said the sailor.
-
-‘What is her name?’ inquired Mary.
-
-‘The _Mary Hann_, he answered. ‘I named her after my wife. My wife
-is gone dead. I’ve got no wife now but she,’ and he pointed with his
-thumb backwards at his boat, ‘and she’s but a poor wife too. She airns
-little enough for me. T’other kept the home together with taking in
-washing, but nobody comes to Piertown now. Folks want what’s called
-attractions. But the Local Board’ll do nothen except buy land as
-belongs to the men who forms the Local Board, and the likes of me has
-to pay for that there land, and when it’s bought fower five times as
-much as it’s worth, it’s left waste. Lord, the jobbery! Are you making
-any stay here, sir?’
-
-‘Yes,’ answered my husband, ‘we are here for a month.’
-
-‘And when might ye have arrived?’ inquired the boatman.
-
-‘To-day,’ replied my husband.
-
-‘There’s some very good fishing to be had here, sir,’ said the boatman.
-‘If I may make so bold, whenever you wants a trip out, whether for
-fishing or rowing or sailing, if so be as you’ll ask for me, my name
-being William Hitchens, best known as Bill Hitchens, pronounced in
-one word Billitchens--for there’s parties here as’ll swear they didn’t
-know who you vos asking for if you don’t call me Billitchens--if you
-ever want a boat, sir, and you ladies, if you’ll ask for Billitchens,
-you’ll meet with satisfaction. There’s nothen to touch the _Mary Hann_
-in sailing, whilst for fishing she’s as steady as a rock, as you may
-guess, sir, by obsarving her beam.’
-
-‘When I want a boat I will ask for Billitchens,’ said my husband,
-glancing at me with a smile in his eye. ‘This lady--my wife--is fonder
-of the sea than I am. I dare say she will sometimes take a cruise with
-you. But the weather must be fine when she does so.’
-
-‘You trust the weather to me, lady,’ said the boatman. ‘Man and boy
-for over forty-eight year I’ve been a-crawling about this beach and
-a-studying the weather. You leave him to me. Whenever you want a cruise
-you ask for Billitchens and the _Mary Hann_, and if the weather ain’t
-promising for the likes of such a lady as you, you shall have the
-truth.’
-
-‘What are your charges?’ said my husband.
-
-‘Wan and sixpence an hour,’ answered the boatman cheerfully, ‘but if
-you’d like to engage my boat by the week ye shall have her at your own
-price, giving me so much every time ye takes me along.’
-
-‘Is she not heavy to row?’ said I.
-
-‘Lord love ye!’ he cried, gazing at his boat with a sour smile of
-wonder at the question. ‘A hinfant could send her spinning. ‘Sides,’
-he added, ‘I’ll take care to ship a pair o’ light oars for you, lady,
-what’s called sculls, nigh as light as this here baccay-pipe.’
-
-‘Well, good afternoon, Mr. Hitchens,’ said my husband, and we strolled
-in the direction of our home, for the shadow of the evening was now
-upon the sea, and the strong wind seemed to have grown very cold on a
-sudden.
-
-However, before we retired to rest the night fell silent, the sea
-stretched in a dark sheet, and from our windows, so high seated was the
-house, the ocean looked to slope steep into the sky, as though, indeed,
-it were the side of a mighty hill. The moon rode over it, and under the
-orb lay a column of glorious silver which stirred like the coils of a
-moving serpent as the swell or the heave of the water ran through it.
-The dark body of a ship passed through that brilliant path of light as
-we stood looking, and the sight was beautiful.
-
-My little ones were sleeping well. Johnny slept in our room and the
-baby with the nurse, for my husband could not bear to be disturbed in
-his sleep. I looked at my boy, and asked my husband to tell me if he
-did not think there was already a little bloom on Johnny’s cheek, and
-I kissed my child’s sweet brow and golden hair.
-
-But it was long before my eyes closed in sleep. I lay hearkening to
-the dull subdued thunder of the surf beating upon the beach far below
-at the foot of the cliffs. It was a new strange noise to me, and I
-lay listening to it as though to a voice muttering in giant whispers
-out of the hush of midnight; and when at last I fell asleep I dreamt
-that I was in the _Mary Hann_, and that Bill Hitchens was steering the
-boat, and that she was sailing directly up the line of glorious silver
-under the moon; and I remember that I asked him in my dream how long it
-would take to reach the moon that as we sailed waxed bigger and soared
-higher; but instead of answering he put his knuckles into his eyes and
-began to sob and cry, and I awoke to hear little Johnny calling to me
-to take him into my bed.
-
-And now followed days as happy as light hearts and bright skies
-and good health could render them. The weather continued splendid.
-Sometimes it was as hot as ever it had been during the month of July
-in the city of the Abbey Church. There was a pleasant neighbourhood,
-a country of woods and verdant dingles and swelling pastures, and we
-made many excursions, and in particular did we enjoy a visit to some
-old ruins which had once been an abbey, but now its windows yawned,
-its roof was gone, large portions of masonry had fallen, its floor
-was a tangled growth of rank grass and weeds. We listened to the wind
-whistling through these ruins: we listened with bated breath and with
-raised imaginations, for the noise of the wind was like the chanting
-of friars intermixed with a thin wailing of women’s voices; and as I
-listened I could not help thinking to myself that it was as though the
-ghosts of long-departed monks and chaste and holy nuns had viewlessly
-assembled round about us to sing some solemn dirge, and that if our
-eyes were as fine a sense as our hearing--if, indeed, we could _see_
-the invisible as we could _hear_ it--we might behold the vision of the
-building itself spread over our heads and on either hand of us, in
-roof, in glorious coloured window, in sepulchral monument.
-
-Here it was that my little Johnny, in running from me towards the grass
-which grew upon what had been the pavement of this ancient abbey,
-tripped and fell and lay screaming as though fearfully hurt. Mary took
-him up: he was not hurt. My husband, looking into the grass to observe
-what had tripped the child, put his hand upon something grey and picked
-up a little skull. ‘Good God!’ he cried, casting it from him with a
-shudder, ‘let us get away from this place.’ But Mary remained behind
-alone for some minutes, with her eyes bent upon the little skull,
-musing upon it.
-
-Though we made several inland excursions our chief haunts were the pier
-and the beach. Those were happy days indeed. My sister and I would take
-camp-stools down on to the sands, and long mornings did we thus pass,
-my husband moving indolently here and there, smoking, examining pools
-of water, stooping to pick up a shell; Johnny scooping with a stick at
-my side; baby sleeping in the arms of the nurse. There we would sit and
-watch the quiet surface of the sea that melted into the blue air where
-the sky came down to it, and gaze at the oncoming breaker poising its
-tall emerald-green head for a breathless instant, like some huge snake
-about to strike, ere tumbling in thunder and snow and roaring seawards
-in a cataract of yeast.
-
-We seemed--indeed, I believe we were--the only visitors in the place.
-Nobody intruded upon us; the miles of sand were our own. Robinson
-Crusoe’s dominion was not more uninterrupted.
-
-The boatman named William Hitchens had called twice at the house early
-in the morning to know if we would go for a nice little sail or row
-during the day, but the answer I had sent by the servant was, ‘Not
-yet.’ I was in no hurry to go for a nice little sail or a row. When
-I was on the sands the sea was so close to me that it was almost the
-same as being on it; and the novelty of having the sea feathering to
-my feet in white and broken waters remained too great an enjoyment for
-some days to induce a wish in me for wider experiences. And then again,
-neither Mary nor my husband had the least taste for boating, so that
-if I went I must go alone. I was not even able to have my children
-with me, for the nurse declared that the mere looking from the beach
-at a boat rocking upon the water made her feel ill, and I dared not
-single-handed take the children, for how could I, holding the baby,
-have looked after little Johnny, who was always on the move, crawling
-here and creeping there, and who was just the sort of child to wriggle
-on to a seat of the boat and tumble overboard whilst my head was turned?
-
-However, after we had been at Piertown five days we walked down to the
-sands as usual after breakfast, and as we passed the entrance of the
-pier Bill Hitchens approached us, pulling at a grey lock of hair that
-hung upon his forehead under an old felt bandit-shaped hat.
-
-‘A beautiful morning for a sail or a row, lady,’ said he, addressing
-himself to me as though he had long before made up his mind that there
-was no custom to be got out of my husband and my sister, ‘why not
-wenture on an hour, mum? There’s as pretty a little offshore wind
-a-blowing as could be wished. And look how smooth the water is! Only
-let me draw you clear of this here ground swell, and ye won’t know
-you’re afloat. Or if you don’t like sailing, I’ll put a small oar into
-the boat, and with me rowing agin ye, lady, ye shall see how light a
-boat she is.’
-
-‘Go, Agnes,’ said my husband, observing that I looked wistfully at the
-water.
-
-‘Come, Mary!’ said I.
-
-‘No, dear,’ she answered, ‘I am certain to suffer from headache
-afterwards.’
-
-‘Why don’t _you_ come along, sir?’ said the boatman to my husband.
-
-‘Because I am very well, thank you, Billitchens, and I wish to remain
-well,’ answered my husband.
-
-‘I will go,’ said I, and instantly the boatman was in motion. He
-ran with uncouth gestures to a ladder that descended the pier-side,
-disappeared down it, and presently emerged in a little skiff which
-he propelled with an oar over the stern. Having arrived at his boat,
-which was moored in the middle of the small harbour, if I may so term
-the space of water within the embrace of the crooked arm of the pier,
-he freed and brought her to some steps. I entered, perhaps a little
-nervously, sat down, and Bill Hitchens throwing his oars over pulled
-the boat out to sea. Little Johnny screamed and wept, imagining that
-I was leaving him for ever. I kissed my hand and waved it to him, and
-Mary, taking the little fellow in her arms, comforted him.
-
-Now out of that simple English scene of coast life, out of the familiar
-commonplace experience of a boating trip, what, if it were not death,
-what should be able to shape itself so potent in all horror as to
-utterly and absolutely shipwreck my happiness and make a frightful
-tragedy of my life? Death it might well have been; again and again
-small sailing boats are capsizing and their inmates are thrown into
-the water and drowned; but worse than death was to befal me. When
-I close my eyes and behold with the vision of my mind the scene of
-that little town, and the terraces of the cliffs, though I am able to
-connect the long chain of circumstance link by link, the memory of the
-disaster and all that followed the disaster affects me even at this
-instant of time with the violence of a paralysing revelation. I know
-the past to be true, and still I gaze dumbly and with terror backwards,
-incapable of crediting it.
-
-But the dreadful misfortune that was to overwhelm me did not happen at
-once. No: my short excursion that morning I thoroughly enjoyed. All was
-safe, well, and delightful. I told the boatman to keep somewhat close
-in to the shore, and I held my husband and sister and children in view
-all the while. The boatman rowed leisurely, and my dear ones on the
-shore kept pace with the boat until they had arrived at their favourite
-spot on the sands, where they seated themselves and watched me. I rowed
-a little and found the oar the man had placed in the boat for my use
-very light and manageable; but I plied it unskilfully; indeed I was but
-a wretched oarswoman. Yet it amused me to dip the blade into the water
-however clumsily, and to feel that the boat received something of her
-impulse from the swing of my figure.
-
-Bill Hitchens talked much, and had I heeded his conversation I might
-have found his queer words and odd thoughts and expressions amusing;
-but I was too much occupied with my oar, and with looking at the group
-on the sands, and with admiring the coast, to attend to his queer
-speech. And, indeed, we were at just such a distance from the coast as
-enabled me to witness in perfection its incomparable romantic beauties.
-The cliffs rose in dark and rugged ramparts, and their gloomy massy
-colours were peculiarly defined by the line of white surf which, the
-fall of the breakers being continuous, seemed fixed as though painted
-along the foot of the coast. The windows of the house we occupied
-sparkled over the edge of the heights, but the structure was so high
-lodged, the altitude from the sea appeared so prodigious, that spite of
-the softening shadow of trees behind it, and spite of its quaint and
-cosy shape, it had an odd, wild, windy look to my eyes, and I wondered
-as I gazed at it that it had not been levelled long ago by one of the
-many hurricanes of wind which Bill Hitchens told me thundered across
-the sea and against the land in winter time, blind with snow and black
-with flying scud. And the town made me think of Tennyson’s description
-of a coastal village, for there was a frosty sparkle upon the houses
-as though they were formed of blocks of rock salt. The sky was a deep
-blue, and I noticed that it seemed to tremble and thrill where the bend
-of it disappeared past the edge of the cliffs, as if the dye of the
-cliffs themselves were lifting and sifting into it, and deepening the
-beauty of its hue just there. The water was everywhere flashful with
-the light wind that was blowing from the land. Presently the boatman
-said:
-
-‘Lady, let me gi’ you a bit of a sail?’
-
-I consented, and he took my oar from me and laid it in the boat,
-then loosed a big sail that lay upon the seats and hoisted it, and
-afterwards he set a little sail at the stern, and then sat down at
-the tiller and steered, making the boat skim along on a line with the
-beach. My dear ones flourished their hands to me.
-
-This was enjoyment indeed. The boat seemed to me to sail wonderfully
-fast; I looked over the stern and perceived that she left behind her
-a long furrow as beautiful with its ornamentation of foam and bubble
-and eddies as a length of rich lace. Hitchens sailed the boat to and
-fro, and all the time he was bidding me observe what a beautiful boat
-she was, how there was nothing whatever to be afraid of, how in such a
-boat as the _Mary Hann_, as he called her, a party of people might sail
-round the United Kingdom in perfect comfort and security.
-
-‘Only make it worth my while,’ said he, ‘and I’d go to Ameriky in
-this here boat. Make it worth my while, lady, and I’d double the Harn
-in her. Ameriky was discovered by folks as would have swopped their
-precious eyes for such a boat as this here to make the voyage in. I
-don’t speak of Australey, for Cook he had a ship; but I’ve heered tell
-of Columbus; there’s one of us chaps as has read all about that gent
-and is always a-yarning about him; and ower and ower I’ve heard him say
-that that there Columbus would have swopped his precious eyes for the
-likes of such a boat as the _Mary Hann_ for to make his discovery with.’
-
-In this manner Bill Hitchens discoursed about his boat, as he sat
-beside the tiller with his head well between his shoulders and his back
-rounded like a cat’s at the sight of a dog.
-
-After this I was continually making excursions with Bill Hitchens.
-Having got to know him, I never would hire another in his place.
-Indeed, he took care that nobody should supplant him, and called for
-orders every morning with the punctuality of the butcher or the grocer.
-Often I would go out twice a day, so keen was my enjoyment of the
-pastime of sailing and rowing. Twice my husband accompanied me, but
-after the second time he told me he had had enough, and he went no
-more in the boat. Once I coaxed Mary into joining me, and in less than
-five minutes the boatman was obliged to put her ashore, and when I
-returned two hours later I found her motionless on the sofa with a sick
-headache.
-
-The behaviour of the boatman did not belie the character I seemed to
-find written in his face. He proved a very honest, civil, deserving
-fellow, possessed of a quality of sourness that imparted a particular
-relish to his odd manner of speaking. I did not fear to be alone with
-this man. I had every confidence in his judgment and prudence. He was
-allowed by his comrades of the beach to be one of the smartest boatmen
-on the coast. My husband ascertained this, and he also agreed with me
-in my opinion of the fellow’s respectability, and day after day I would
-enter the boat and my husband would stand watching me without the
-faintest misgiving of any sort in either of us.
-
-On several occasions Hitchens carried me out to so great a distance
-that the features of the land were indistinguishable, and these long
-trips I enjoyed most of all; they were like voyages, and when I stepped
-on shore I would feel as though I had just arrived from the other side
-of the world.
-
-We had now been a day over three weeks at Piertown. The weather had
-continued fine and warm throughout--in truth, a more beautiful October
-I never remember--and we had all benefited vastly by the change. But
-on the morning of this day my husband received a letter. He opened it,
-read it attentively, and exclaimed to me across the breakfast table, ‘I
-shall have to leave you for a couple of days.’
-
-‘Why?’ I asked.
-
-He passed the letter to me: it was a business letter, addressed to
-him by his clerk. The nature of the business does not concern us;
-enough that the call was important and peremptory. The business, my
-husband said, would certainly detain him in Bath until the hour of the
-departure of a late train on the following night, if indeed he should
-be able to return then.
-
-I packed his handbag, and Mary and I walked with him to the railway
-station. I kissed him, and we parted.
-
-My sister and I returned home to take the children to the sands. We
-passed the morning under the cliffs, talking and reading and playing
-with the children. It was a bright day, but I afterwards remembered
-noticing that the blue of the heavens was wanting in the beautiful
-clear vividness of hue of the preceding days. The azure had a somewhat
-dim and soiled look, such as one might fancy it would exhibit in
-a very fine, thin dust-storm. I also afterwards remembered having
-observed that there was a certain brassiness in the glare of the sun,
-as if his light were the reflection of his own pure golden beams cast
-by a surface of burnished brass or copper. These things I afterwards
-recollected I had noticed, yet I do not remember that I spoke of them
-to my sister.
-
-We dined at one o’clock. The road from our house to the sands carried
-us past the entrance to the pier. As we leisurely strolled, Bill
-Hitchens lifted his breast from the post which he was overhanging, and
-approached us with a respectful salutation of his hand to his brow.
-
-‘Will you be going out this afternoon, lady?’ he asked.
-
-‘My husband has been called away,’ I replied, ‘and I do not feel as if
-I should care to go upon the water during his absence.’
-
-‘You will find the afternoon tedious, dear,’ said Mary.
-
-‘It’s a beautiful day, lady,’ said the boatman. ‘There’s a nice little
-air o’ wind stirring. Couldn’t ask for a prettier day for a sail, lady.’
-
-‘It is somewhat cloudy,’ said I, directing my gaze at the sky.
-
-‘Fine weather clouds, lady,’ said the boatman. ‘Keep your sight upon
-’em for a bit and you’ll find they’re scarcely moving.’
-
-‘That is true,’ said I.
-
-‘If you go,’ said Mary, ‘I will take Johnny and baby for a drive.’
-
-‘You’ll soon be leaving Piertown, lady, worse luck!’ said the boatman,
-with an insinuating grin. ‘This here fine weather ain’t a-going to last
-neither. It won’t be long afore we’ll be laying our boats up. It may be
-blowing hard to-morrow, lady, and it may keep on blowing until your
-time’s up for retarning.’
-
-I reflected and said, ‘Well, Hitchens, you can get your boat ready
-for me by half-past two or a quarter to three. I’ll be back by four,’
-said I, addressing Mary, as we walked home, ‘and by that time you’ll
-have returned. Do not keep baby out later than four,’ and we talked of
-my husband and on home matters as we climbed the road that led to the
-level of the cliff.
-
-At a quarter-past two I was ready to walk to the pier for a trip which
-I thought might likely enough prove my last, and which was not to
-exceed an hour and a quarter. I was dressed in the costume in which I
-usually made these excursions--in a blue serge dress, a warm jacket,
-and a sailor’s hat of grey straw. An old-fashioned fly stood at the
-door waiting for Mary and the nurse and children. I took baby in my
-arms and kissed her, and I lifted Johnny and kissed him and saw the
-little party into the fly, which drove off.
-
-I lingered a moment or two. A strange sense of loneliness suddenly
-possessed me. I cannot imagine what could have caused it if it were
-not the silence that followed upon the fly driving off, together with
-the thought that my husband was away. I entered the little parlour to
-ascertain the time by the clock on the mantelpiece, for my watch had
-stopped and I had left it in my bedroom. Upon the table lay a pair
-of baby’s shoes, and a horse and cart that my husband had bought for
-Johnny was upon the floor. As I looked at these things I was again
-visited by an unaccountable feeling of loneliness. But it could possess
-no possible signification to me, and passing out of the house I closed
-the hall-door and walked briskly down to the pier.
-
-The boat was ready. I entered her, and Hitchens rowed out of the
-harbour. The surface of the water was smooth, for the small breeze of
-the morning had weakened and was now no more than a draught of air;
-but the sea undulated with what sailors call ‘a swell,’ upon which the
-boat rose and sank with a sensation of cradling that was singularly
-soothing to me. The horizon was somewhat misty, and I observed that the
-extremities of the coast on either hand in the distance were blurred,
-showing indeed as though they were mirrored in a looking-glass upon
-which you had slightly breathed.
-
-‘It looks somewhat foggy out upon the sea,’ said I.
-
-‘Nothen but heat, lady, nothen but heat. I like to see fog myself with
-the wind out at Nothe. When that happens with fine weather it sinifies
-that fine weather’s a-going to last.’
-
-The figures of a few boatmen idly lounged upon the esplanade. A man
-in a white apron, smoking a pipe, stood in the door of one of the
-public-houses, watching us as the boat receded. A coastguardsman, stick
-in hand, leaned over the edge of the pier, gazing down at the little
-cluster of boats which swayed upon the gently heaving water of the
-harbour. The sun shone upon some bright gilt sign of a cock, or bird
-of some sort, over the door of one of the public-houses; and next door
-to this sign was another, the painted head and bust of a woman eagerly
-inclining forwards, with the right arm advanced and a wreath in her
-hand. It had probably been the figure-head of a ship.
-
-These little details of the picture I remember remarking as I looked at
-the shore whilst the boat leisurely drew away. What a dull, motionless
-place did Piertown seem! The main street climbing the hill was visible
-past the curve of the pier, and only two figures were to be seen
-ascending it.
-
-‘I cannot understand how you men get a living,’ said I to Bill Hitchens.
-
-‘We don’t onderstand it ourselves, lady,’ said he.
-
-‘You are boatmen, but nobody hires your boats,’ said I. ‘How do you
-live?’
-
-‘It’s a riddle, mum,’ answered Hitchens, ‘and there ain’t no answer to
-it.’
-
-‘Yet those boatmen,’ said I, ‘who are standing upon the esplanade are
-comfortably dressed, they appear neat and clean, their clothes may be
-rough but they are fairly good and warm, they are all smoking and I
-suppose they have to pay for the tobacco they smoke; they, and others
-like them, are constantly in and out of the public-houses, and the beer
-which they drink must cost them money. How do they manage?’
-
-‘I’ve been man and boy getting on for eight and forty years upon that
-there beach,’ said Bill Hitchens, ‘and if you ask me to tell you how
-me and the likes of me manages, my answer is, lady, I gives it up.’
-
-We were silent, and I continued to look at the shore and to admire the
-scene of it.
-
-‘The time was,’ said Bill Hitchens meditatively, ‘when I hoped to live
-to see the day as ’ud find me the landlord of a public-house. When
-all’s said and done, lady, I don’t know that a plain man like myself
-could ask for a more enjoyable berth than a public. Take a dark, wet,
-cold night, blowing hard and the air full of snow and hail. Only
-think of the pleasure of opening the door just to look out, so as
-to be able to step back again into the light and warmth and all the
-different smells of the liquors,’ he added, snuffing. ‘Only think how
-pleasingly the time flies in yarning with customers. Then, if ever ye
-stand in need of a drain, there it is--anything ye like and nothen to
-pay; ’cos when a landlord drinks it’s always at the expense of his
-customers, whether they knows it or not. Then think again, lady, of
-a snug little parlour at the back, all shining with clean glasses and
-mugs like silver, with a warm fire and a kettle of boiling water always
-ready--ah!’ He broke off with a deep sigh.
-
-‘I’ll take an oar,’ said I.
-
-‘Lor’ bless me!’ he cried, running his eyes over the boat. ‘I’ve
-forgotten to ship a pair of sculls for you,’ by which term he signified
-the light oars he was in the habit of placing in the boat for my use.
-
-‘The oar you are rowing with will be too heavy for me, I fear,’ said I.
-
-I dorn’t think it will, mum,’ he answered. ‘Suppose ye try it. After
-you’re tired of rowing we’ll hoist the sail, for we shall find more
-wind stirring when we get out furder.’
-
-He adjusted the oar and I seated myself at it and began to row. He sat
-in the bows of the boat near the tall mast and I upon a hinder seat
-near to that end of the boat which I had heard him call the ‘stern
-sheets.’ I did not find the oar so heavy as I had imagined. The boatman
-had placed it so as to fairly balance it and I continued to swing it
-without much trouble.
-
-But after I had been rowing a few minutes the pressure of the handle
-of the oar in my grasp caused my rings to hurt me. I endured the
-inconvenience until it became a pain; then, tilting the oar and
-supporting it by my elbow, I pulled off my rings--that is to say, my
-wedding-ring and two others, all that I wore--and placed them by my
-side on the sail, which lay in a sort of bundle along the seats. I
-never had any superstitious feeling about my wedding-ring. Over and
-over again had I removed it to wash my hands. With many women, when
-once the wedding-ring is on, it is on for ever. Well would it have
-been for me had I possessed the sentiment of tender and graceful
-superstition that influences most wives in this way.
-
-My rings being removed I applied myself again to the oar, and for about
-a quarter of an hour Bill Hitchens and I continued to row the boat out
-into the open sea. By this time we had reached a distance of a mile
-from the land. The faint air had been slowly freshening into a little
-breeze, and the water was rippling briskly against the side of the
-boat. I was now tired of rowing, and, asking Bill Hitchens to take the
-oar from me, I rose from my seat and sat down near the tiller.
-
-‘May as well hoist the sail now, lady, don’t ye think?’ said Bill
-Hitchens.
-
-‘Yes, you can hoist the sail,’ said I, ‘but I do not wish to go too far
-from the land. What o’clock is it?’
-
-He extracted an old silver watch from somewhere under his jersey and
-gave me the time.
-
-‘I wish to be home by about a quarter past four,’ said I.
-
-He answered that he would see to it, and, seizing hold of a rope
-which passed through the top of the mast, he hoisted the sail. He
-then came to where I was sitting, and set the little sail upon the
-mast at the stern, and when this was done he grasped the tiller, and
-the boat, feeling the pressure of the breeze in her broad canvas--for
-though she was a small boat she carried a sail that I would think was
-disproportionately large for her size--heeled over and cut through the
-water on her side very quickly.
-
-‘It’s a nice soldier’s wind for the land, lady,’ said the boatman.
-
-‘What is a soldier’s wind?’ I asked.
-
-‘Why,’ he answered, ‘a wind that allows ye to go there and back
-wherever ye may be bound to.’
-
-‘The coast looks a long way off, Hitchens.’
-
-‘It’s vurking up a bit hazy, lady, but there’s nothen to hurt.’
-
-‘I expect the sky will be overcast before sunset,’ said I. ‘Do you
-see that bank of clouds hazily peering through the air over the coast
-there?’ and I indicated a portion of the land which certainly did not
-lie in the direction whence the wind was blowing; so that it was plain
-to me, ignorant as I was in all such matters, though my perception had
-been sharpened a little by being much upon the water, and by listening
-to Bill Hitchens discoursing upon the several aspects of his calling--I
-say it was plain to me that those clouds were working their way up over
-the land, and that if they did not promise a change of weather they
-must certainly betoken a shift of wind.
-
-The boatman cast his eyes carelessly towards the coast and said ‘that
-there was nothing to hurt in them clouds, that he rather believed they
-were settling away instead of rising,’ and then he changed the subject
-by asking me if my husband had gone to London, and if I had ever seen
-London, and if it was as big a place as folks pretended it to be.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER III
-
-‘WHO AM I?’
-
-
-I sat looking about me, now watching the pretty wreaths of foam spring
-past the sides of the boat, now gazing at the land whose features had
-blended into a long, dark, compact, but hazy line, sometimes addressing
-questions to Bill Hitchens, and always enjoying what to me was the
-exquisitely pleasurable sensation of the boat buoyantly sweeping over
-the little feathering ripples, when, my eyes going on a sudden to my
-left hand, I cried out, ‘Oh, where are my rings?’
-
-‘Your rings, lady?’ exclaimed the boatman.
-
-‘Yes, my rings. Did you not see me take off my rings? I put them on
-the sail that lay near me. Oh, where are they, where are they? I cannot
-lose them. One is my wedding-ring and the other two are my husband’s
-gifts. Oh, Hitchens, where are they?’ I cried, and, with a passion of
-eagerness and fear, I hunted over the bottom of the boat with my eyes,
-peering and straining my gaze at every crevice and hollow.
-
-‘Now be calm, lady,’ said Hitchens, ‘it’ll come right. The rings can’t
-be fur off. Let me question you. Where did you say you put ’em?’
-
-‘That sail up there lay along the seats, and I put my rings on it, on a
-corner of it that was close to me. I believed that they would be safe
-there. They could not slide off canvas.’
-
-The man’s face fell as he looked into the bottom of the boat.
-
-‘If you’ll catch hold of this here tiller, lady,’ said he, ‘I’ll have
-a search. They can’t be fur off, I hope,’ he added in a voice meant to
-encourage me.
-
-I put my hand on the tiller, but hardly knew what more to do with it
-than to keep it steady. My distress was exquisite. When I looked over
-the bottom of the boat and could not see any glitter of my wedding-ring
-and the other two rings I shivered as though possessed with a passion
-of grief. Oh, if I had been careless in removing my rings, it shocked
-me to the heart to think of losing them--of losing my wedding-ring,
-that symbol of my wedded love and happiness.
-
-‘Do you see any signs of them?’ I cried to Hitchens. ‘I shall not mind
-the loss of the other rings, but I must have my wedding-ring--I must
-not lose it--I _cannot_ lose my wedding-ring.’
-
-The poor fellow, with a face of real concern, groped about the bottom
-of the boat. He lifted up a board, and carefully felt about with his
-hand in some water that lay in a kind of well. But I was sure that if
-the rings were not to be seen at once they would not be seen at all,
-because there were three of them, and one at least must certainly be
-visible: for though there were many crevices in the boat they were all
-very shallow, and the gleam of the rings would be instantly perceptible.
-
-‘I am afraid, lady,’ exclaimed the boatman, standing up, ‘that they’ve
-gone overboard.’
-
-I moaned.
-
-‘I didn’t,’ he continued, ‘take any notice of ’em, and in my sudden
-whipping up of the sail they must have been chucked ower the side. It’s
-a bad job true-ly,’ and again he bent his figure to look.
-
-I now realised that I had lost my rings; it had not been a loss to
-be instantly felt and understood. My wedding-ring was gone; another
-wedding-ring I might easily buy, but the one that was consecrated to
-me by memory, the ring with which my husband had made me his wife, was
-irrecoverably gone, and as I looked upon my bare hand I wept, and then
-for a third time was I visited with a cold heart-subduing feeling of
-loneliness.
-
-‘Turn the boat for the land,’ I said to Hitchens. ‘I am miserable and
-want to get home.’
-
-As he came to the tiller he directed a look out at the west, or rather
-I should say in the direction of the coast, for the haze had thickened
-magically within the last ten minutes or so, and though the land was
-scarcely above three miles distant it was little more than a dim
-shadow, that seemed to be fading out even as we looked. But I was still
-so grieved and distracted by the loss of my wedding-ring that I had no
-eyes save for my bare hand, and no thoughts save for what was at the
-bottom of the sea.
-
-‘The wind’s shifted,’ said Hitchens. ‘It is off the land. You was
-right, lady, arter all. Them clouds _was_ a-coming up. We shall have to
-ratch home.’
-
-He dragged at some ropes which held the corners of the sails, and,
-moving his tiller, caused the boat to turn; but she did not turn so as
-to point the head for the land.
-
-‘Why do you not steer for Piertown?’ I said.
-
-‘The wind’s come dead foul, lady. We shall have to ratch home.’
-
-‘What do you mean by “ratch”?’
-
-‘We shall have to tack--we shall have to beat back.’
-
-I did not understand his language, but neither would I tease him by
-questions. Now I was sensible that the wind had increased and was still
-increasing. I lifted up my eyes and judged that the wind was coming
-out of a great heap of cloud which lay over the land--the heap of cloud
-whose brows I had noticed rising above the edge of the cliff; but the
-mass had since then risen high, and there was a shadow upon it as if
-rain were falling. The boat lay sharply over upon her side, and her
-stem, as it tore through the water, made a strange stealthy noise of
-hissing as though it were red hot.
-
-‘The land is fading out of sight,’ said I.
-
-‘Ay, it’s drawed down thicker than I expected,’ answered the boatman.
-
-‘Is not the wind very high?’
-
-‘It’s blowing a nice sailing breeze,’ he answered; ‘though it’s a pity
-it’s shifted, as you’re in a hurry to get home.’
-
-But as he gazed round the sea I seemed to witness an expression of
-uneasiness in his face. It appeared to me that he was sailing away
-from the land. I was alarmed, and questioned him. He drew a piece of
-chalk from his pocket and first marked down upon the seat the situation
-of the coast, then the situation of the boat, and then the process of
-tacking, and how we should have to sail at angles in order to reach
-Piertown harbour.
-
-‘What time is it, Hitchens?’
-
-He looked at his watch and said, ‘Just upon the hour of four.’
-
-‘Oh! how the time has flown! Already four! When shall we arrive, do you
-think?’
-
-‘I’m afeared,’ he answered, ‘that I sha’n’t be able to put ye ashore
-much before five.’
-
-‘But the atmosphere continues to grow thicker. Look! some parts of the
-coast are invisible. If you should lose sight of the coast, how will
-you be able to steer for it?’
-
-‘We’ll find our way home all right, lady,’ he exclaimed cheerfully.
-‘Don’t be afeared. The loss of them there rings has worried ye, as
-well it might, and I’d give half the worth of this boat to be able to
-fish ’em up.’
-
-I sat silent and motionless, gazing at the slowly dissolving line of
-coast over the gunwale. The water was now streaming in lines, and every
-line had its edging of spray, and often from these little foaming
-ridges there would flash a handful of glittering crystals, as though
-some hand within were hurling diamonds and prisms through the curling
-head of the brine. The thickness of the atmosphere lay around the sea,
-and so shrunk the plain of water that it looked no more than a lake in
-size. There was also the gloom of gathering clouds in the air, not only
-of the clouds which were rising off the land, but of vapour forming
-overhead and sailing athwart the course of the boat in dirty shreds and
-rags of the stuff that is called by sailors ‘scud!’
-
-‘Will you hold the tiller for a moment, lady?’ said the boatman.
-‘There’s summat wrong with----’ and he pronounced a technical word
-which I do not remember.
-
-I grasped the tiller and he rose and went into the bows of the boat,
-where he paused for a moment, looking up; he then got upon the gunwale
-of the boat and stood with his back to the sea, with one hand upon a
-rope that ran from the front mast down to the bowsprit. He preserved
-that posture of standing and supporting himself and looking upwards
-whilst one might count ten; then let go of the rope, brought his hands
-together over his heart and, with a kind of short rattling groan, fell
-backwards.
-
-The boat sat low on the water, and as the poor fellow therefore fell
-from no height, he rose to the surface before the boat had gone past
-him by her own length; he floated on his back, and made no effort to
-swim; I do not remember witnessing a single struggle in him; whence
-I judged, when I was able to think, that he had fallen dead from the
-gunwale of his little vessel; and the manner in which he had seemed
-to clutch at his heart, and the short rattling groan that he had
-delivered, confirmed me in this belief.
-
-When he fell I sprang to my feet with a shriek of horror. For some
-moments, which would have been precious had he been alive and
-struggling, I did not know what to do. My heart stood still, I could
-not draw a breath. Then with lightning speed there swept into my head
-the thought that if he were drowned I should be alone, and, being
-alone, I should be absolutely helpless; and this thought electrified
-me, and not only enabled me to reflect, but gave me power to act. For,
-far more swiftly than I can relate what I did, yes, even though I was
-talking to you instead of writing, I grasped one of the long heavy oars
-and launched it towards the figure of the man as a spear is hurled. I
-needed, indeed, the strength of terror to accomplish this; at another
-time it would have taxed my strength to merely drag the oar to the side
-and let it fall.
-
-The boat had been sailing fast when the poor man dropped from the
-gunwale, but when I sprang up I released the tiller, which I had
-been holding steady, having no knowledge whatever of steering, and
-the boat being released from the government of her helm, flew round
-into the wind, but not until she had left the body of the man a long
-distance behind; and then she stood upright upon the water, with her
-sails angrily shaking. Wild with thought and fear, wild with despair
-and terror, I kept my eyes fastened upon the body of the man. Oh, I
-cried to myself, can he not swim? Will he not attempt to reach the
-oar? And I screamed out his name, pointing to the direction where the
-oar lay. But as I continued to point and scream out his name the body
-sank. It vanished instantly, as though it had been desperately jerked
-under water by some hidden grasp or fang below. I stood straining my
-gaze, not knowing but that he might rise again, and then it was that
-the boat, being pointed a little away from the wind by the beat of the
-small, short waves, was smitten by the blast in her forward canvas;
-she turned and rushed through the water, whitening it, and lying
-dangerously down under the weight of her sails; but after she had
-started she, of her own accord, wound round into the wind again and
-sat upright, plunging quickly with her canvas rattling, and time after
-time this process was repeated, whilst I stood staring round me, seeing
-nothing of the land, beholding nothing, but the contracted plain of the
-ocean, around which the haze or fog stood as a wall, whilst overhead
-the sky was of the colour of slate, shadowed by speeding wings of scud.
-
-It was raining, and when I looked in the direction whence the wind was
-blowing, the rain that drove aslant splashed in my face. I thought to
-myself, What will next happen? The boat will overset, and I shall be
-drowned! What am I to do?--what am I to do? And as I thought thus,
-weeping bitterly, and wringing my hands in the extremity of my grief
-and fright, the boat heeled over and depressed her side so low that
-the white foam she churned up flashed and roared to the level of the
-line of her gunwale. I grasped the opposite side to save myself from
-falling, by which I no doubt saved my life, because, had I slipped and
-staggered to the depressed side, my weight must certainly have capsized
-the boat. She rushed like an arrow round again into the wind and then
-stopped dead, plunging yet more sharply.
-
-I wrung my hands again and cried aloud, What am I to do? But, happily,
-I had sense enough to understand that the very first thing to be done
-was to lower the sail, and as I had repeatedly observed poor Hitchens
-hoist the tall sheet of canvas, I knew what rope to undo, and, stepping
-over the seats, I released the rope, and, the boat being at that moment
-with her head pointing into the wind, the sail fell, but in falling
-it enveloped me and threw me down, and it was some minutes before I
-succeeded in extricating myself.
-
-This, to be sure, was a trifling accident, for I was not in the least
-degree hurt, but the being thrown down and smothered by the canvas
-immeasurably heightened my distress and terror; I trembled from head
-to foot, my knees yielded under me, and I was forced to sit. It was
-raining hard, and the wet made the wind feel cruelly cold as it rushed
-athwart the boat, whipping the crests off the waves into an angry
-showering of spray. But after a little I began to find some faint
-comfort in the belief that the boat was stationary. Alas, how great
-was my ignorance! Because she did not appear to sail, and because she
-no longer lay dangerously over, I believed she was stationary. Yet two
-little sails were still set, a triangular sail at the bowsprit and a
-small square sail at the stern, and I must have been crazed indeed not
-to guess that whilst this canvas remained exposed the light fabric
-would be blown along by the wind, either sideways or forward, and that,
-as the wind blew directly from the west, every minute was widening my
-distance from Piertown.
-
-But not understanding this, I found some heart in the belief that the
-boat was stationary, and I tried to comfort myself in other ways.
-I said to myself, this rain may be a passing shower, the weather
-will brighten presently, the boat will be in view from the coast,
-my situation will be guessed at by the boatmen who hang about the
-Esplanade, and they will put off to rescue me. And I also said to
-myself, even if this weather should not clear up, even if I remain out
-here invisible from the land, yet when my sister finds that it grows
-dark and I have not returned, she is sure to go down to the harbour and
-offer rewards for my rescue, and I may count upon several boats coming
-out to search for me.
-
-Thus I thought, striving to give myself heart. But oh, the desolation
-of that mist-environed stretch of steel-grey water--chilly, leaping,
-and streaming in froth! Oh, the cruel cold of the rain-laden wind
-pouring shrilly past my ears and penetrating my wet clothes till my
-breast felt like marble! Not even now could I realise my situation. I
-knew that I was alone and that I was helpless, but the horizon of my
-fears and wretchedness was contained in these simple perceptions. I
-did not believe that I should perish. I was sure that succour would
-come, and my sufferings now lay in the agony of expectation, in the
-present and heart-breaking torment of waiting.
-
-The time passed, the shadow of the evening entered the gloom of the
-afternoon. It continued to rain, and the horizon lay shrouded close
-to the boat, but I believe there was no increase in the wind: I
-noticed no increase. But indeed I was too ignorant, too despairful,
-too heartbroken to heed the weather, unless it were to observe, with
-eyes half-blind with my own tears and the flying rain that the sea
-was darkening, that the thickness lay close around the boat, and that
-nothing ever came out of that thickness save the dusky shapes of waves.
-
-‘Am I to be out in this boat all night?’ I thought to myself. ‘If so, I
-shall die of cold and exhaustion. I cannot pass the whole long night
-alone in this open boat in the rain, and in the bitter cold wind, wet
-through to the skin as I already am, without anybody to speak to,
-without food or drink, without a ray of light for my eyes to find
-comfort in resting on. O God! O God! I cried, and I went down upon my
-knees in the boat, and, clasping my hands, I gazed upwards into the
-grey, wet shadow of the sky, under which the naked mast of the boat was
-reeling, and I prayed to God to be with me, to watch over me, to bring
-help to me before I expired of fear and cold, and to return me to my
-sister, and to my little ones who were waiting for me.
-
-And now I scarcely know how to proceed. What followed was a passage--a
-horribly long passage--of mental suffering incommunicable by the pen,
-nay scarcely to be remembered or understood by the sufferer herself.
-It fell dark, and the black night came, the blacker because there was
-no moon and because of the rain and the mist. I had gathered the wet
-cloths of the sail about me as a sort of shelter, and I sat with my
-head above the line of the gunwale, for ever looking to left and to
-right, and to right and to left, and never seeing more than the pale,
-near gleam of froth. At times thought grew maddening, and I shrieked
-like one in a fit or like a woman insane. It was not the fear of death
-that maddened me, it was not the anguish of the cold and the wet, nor
-even the fearful loneliness of my situation, a loneliness that cannot
-be imagined, for what magic is there in ink to figure the impenetrable
-blackness of the night, to imitate the snapping and sobbing sounds of
-the water and the hissing of the wind? No, it was the thought of my
-husband and my children; and it was chiefly the thought of my children.
-Again and again, when my mind went to them, I would catch myself
-moaning, and again and again I shrieked. With the eye of imagination
-I saw them sleeping: I saw my darling boy slumbering restfully in his
-little bed, I saw my baby asleep in her little cot; I bent over them
-in fancy; I kissed the golden hair of my boy, and I kissed the soft
-cheek of my baby; and then the yearnings of my heart grew into agony
-insupportable.
-
-And there was a dreadful fancy that again and again visited me. Amid
-the crawling and blinking foam over the boat’s side I sometimes
-imagined I saw the body of Hitchens. It came and went. I knew it was a
-deception of the senses, yet I stared as though it were there indeed.
-Sometimes there would come a sound in the wind that resembled the groan
-he had uttered when he fell overboard.
-
-At some hour of the night, but whether before or after midnight I could
-not have told, I was looking over the right side of the boat when a
-large shadow burst out of the darkness close to. It swept by wrapped in
-gloom. It was a vessel, and she whitened the throbbing dusky surface
-over which she passed with a confused tumble of froth. There was not
-a single spot of light upon her. Her sails blended with the midnight
-obscurity, and were indistinguishable. Indeed she was to be heard
-rather than seen, for the noise of the wind was strong and shrill in
-her rigging, and the sound of her passage through the water was like
-a rending of satin. She was visible, and then she was gone even as I
-looked.
-
-All night long it rained, and it was raining at daybreak in a fine thin
-drizzle. The sea was shrouded as on the previous afternoon. When the
-cold and iron grey of the dawn was upon the atmosphere, I feebly lifted
-up my head, marvelling to find myself alive. I looked about me with my
-eyes as languid as those of a dying person’s, and beheld nothing but
-the streaming waters running out of the haze on one side and vanishing
-in the haze on the other side. Had I then possessed the knowledge of
-the sea that I afterwards gained, I might have known by the character
-of the waves that during the night the boat had been swept a long
-distance out. The billows were large and heavy, and the movements of
-the boat, whose sails were too small to steady her, were wild. Yet she
-rose and fell buoyantly. These things I afterwards recollected.
-
-I was without hunger, but the presence of daylight sharpening my
-faculties somewhat I felt thirsty, and no sooner was I conscious of the
-sensation of thirst than the perception that it was not to be assuaged
-raised it into a torment. There was water in the bottom of the boat; I
-dipped my finger into one of the puddles and put the moisture to my
-lips. It was brackish, almost indeed as salt as the water of the sea.
-I pressed my parched lips to the sodden sail, which I had pulled over
-my shoulders, and the moisture of it was as salt as the puddle I had
-dipped my finger into.
-
-And now, after this time, I have but a very indistinct recollection of
-what followed. All my memories are vague, as though I had dimly dreamed
-of what I saw and suffered. I recollect that I felt shockingly ill,
-and that I believed I was dying. I recollect that during some hour of
-this day I beheld a smudge in the grey shadow of mist and rain on my
-right, that it kindled an instant’s hope in me, that I held open with
-difficulty my heavy wet eyelids and watched it in a sickly and fainting
-way, believing it might prove a boat sent in search of me. I followed
-it with my gaze until it melted away in the thickness. I recollect
-that the day passed, and that the blackness of a second night came;
-but, this remembered, all else is a blank in my brain.
-
-I opened my eyes and found myself in gloom. A few inches above me was
-a shelf; I supposed it to be a shelf. Dim as the light was, there was
-enough of it to enable me to see that what was stretched just above me
-was not part of a ceiling. I lay looking at it. I then turned my head
-on to my right cheek and beheld a wall. I touched it to make sure. I
-passed my hand slowly over it, and then looked up again at the shelf
-that was stretched over my head. I then turned my head and perceived a
-little circle of greenish light. I stared at this strange glimmering
-disk of light for a long while, again looked upwards, and again feebly
-passed my hand over the wall.
-
-I did not ask myself where I was; I felt no curiosity. I was as one in
-whom an intellect has been suddenly created, and who passively accepts
-what the sight rests on. I lay turning my head from cheek to cheek for
-some ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, during which my eyes, having
-grown used to the gloom that was faintly touched by that circle of
-greenish light, began to distinguish objects. And first I saw that I
-was in a very little dark room, lying upon a sort of shelf which, with
-the upper shelf, resembled a long box, of which one side was wanting;
-and scarcely had I perceived that I was in a little dark room than I
-became sensible that I was upon the water: for, as I lay on the shelf,
-I felt that my body was rolled from side to side, and I also felt an
-upwards motion and then a downwards motion, and I knew that I was at
-sea.
-
-Then I thought to myself, I am in the cabin of a ship. But how did I
-get here and who am I? Having said to myself _Who am I_? I repeated
-the words over and over again; but as yet without surprise, without
-terror. The question haunted my mind with languid iteration, but it
-induced no emotion. I felt sick and extraordinarily weak. Something
-irritated my brow, and, lifting my hand, I found my right temple and
-the eyebrow and a portion of the nose as far as the bridge of it pasted
-over with some hard substance. I ran my fingers over this substance,
-but without wonderment, and then my arm fell exhausted to my side, and
-feebly turning my head on to my left cheek, I stared at the glimmering
-green disc, whilst I kept on thinking to myself, but without agitation
-or fear, _Who am I_?
-
-It did not strike me as in the least degree strange that I should
-not know who I was. I lay looking, and I saw a man’s coat swinging
-by a nail near the little circle of dim light. I also saw a common
-cane-bottom chair and a dark chest, which I have since learnt to call
-by its proper name of ‘locker.’ From the ceiling of this little room
-there swung, suspended by thin brass chains, a strange-looking lamp,
-formed of a globe of metal with a glass chimney. I continued to watch
-that lamp swing until my eyelids closed, but whether I fainted or
-slumbered I am unable to say.
-
-When I awoke or regained consciousness the glimmering circle of
-glass had changed from dim green into bright yellow. It rippled with
-brilliance as from the reflection of sunshine upon water, and there
-was daylight in the little cabin. I heard the sound of a fiddle and
-the voice of a man singing. The sounds were on the other side of the
-wall which I had felt over with my hand when I first awoke. Presently
-the music ceased, and almost at the moment that it ceased I heard the
-rattle of a door-handle and what looked to be a shapeless bulk stood at
-my side.
-
-On straining my dim sight I saw that the figure was that of an
-immensely fat man. He stood with his back to the circular window, and
-for some while I was unable to discern his features. Meanwhile he
-stared at me as though there was nothing in my fixed look to satisfy
-him that I was alive or dead. His face was perfectly round and his
-cheeks puffed out as if he were in the act of blowing. Upon his upper
-lip were a few short straggling hairs, iron grey; his hair was scanty
-and grizzled; his complexion was a brick red, apparently from exposure
-to weather. Yet his fat face was deprived of the expression of stupid
-good nature that one commonly finds in such countenances by a pair of
-heavy, shaggy, almost white eyebrows, which, coming close together over
-the top of his nose, stamped the look of an habitual frown upon his
-forehead. His eyes were small, black and piercing, and his age might
-have been anything between fifty and sixty. He wore a red cap, the
-tasselled point of which fell over his ear, and his dress consisted of
-a soiled and well-worn pilot-coat hanging loose over an equally soiled
-and well-worn velveteen jacket. A large shawl was wound round his
-neck, and there were gold hoops in his ears. These points I afterwards
-witnessed. All that I now observed was his large round face of a dusky
-crimson and the small black eyes in it fixed upon me.
-
-At last he exclaimed, in a deep voice: ‘Tiens, vous voilà enfin
-éveillée, après trois jours de sommeil! Eh bien, j’espère que
-maintenant vous soyez en état de prendre quelque nourriture et de me
-dire ce que vous êtes. Peste! que n’avez-vous donc échappé! C’est vrai
-les femmes peuvent supporter plus que les hommes. Elles ne sont pas si
-facilement écrasées que nous autres pauvres diables.’
-
-I listened to these words and understood them, but I did not know they
-were French. Yet though I could not have given a name to the tongue
-in which the man spoke I knew what he said. My knowledge of French
-suffered me to read it and slightly understand it when spoken, but I
-was unable to converse in it.
-
-What he had said was: ‘So then you are awake at last! Three days of
-sleep! Well, now you will be able to eat and drink, I hope, and tell me
-who you are. Peste! what an escape! But women have more endurance than
-men. They are not so easily destroyed as us poor devils.’
-
-I gazed at him without answering. He addressed me again in French.
-
-‘What do you say?’ I whispered.
-
-‘Aha! you are Angleesh,’ exclaimed the man in his deep voice, and he
-added in French, ‘Stop! I will go and fetch Alphonse.’
-
-His shapeless bulk moved away from the side of the shelf and I lay
-motionless, with my eyes fixed upon the bright circle of glass upon
-which the reflection of sunny waters without was dancing. But I do not
-know what I thought of. I cannot remember that any sort of determinable
-idea visited me. My mind seemed empty, with one strange question for
-ever dully echoing in it: _Who am I?_ Yet I also seemed to know that
-I was not mad. I could not tell who I was, but I felt that I was not
-mad. I do not say that my instincts assured me of this; I seemed to be
-sensible of it passively. It was a perception independent of all effort
-of mind, a knowledge wholly involuntary as the action of the heart is
-involuntary.
-
-In a few minutes I heard the door-handle rattle again and two
-figures came to the side of the shelf on which I lay. One was the
-same stout personage that had previously visited me; the other was
-a clean, fresh-looking young man of the age of four or five and
-twenty, smoothly shaven, with coal black hair and eyes, his face of
-a pronounced French type. He was fairly well dressed in a suit of
-grey, and his white shirt collar was buttoned low so as to expose the
-whole of his long throat and even a portion of his chest. His posture
-suggested an air of habitual attention and respect, and after he had
-peered a while and observed that my eyes were open he removed his cap.
-
-‘Speak to her Alphonse,’ said the large stout man.
-
-‘How do you do, madame? How do you now feel?’ said the younger man in
-good English, pronouncing the words with an excellent accent.
-
-I answered faintly, ‘I believe I am dying. Where am I?’
-
-‘Oh,’ he exclaimed quickly, ‘you have not eaten, you have not drunken.
-It is impossible for people to live unless they eat and drink.’
-
-He then addressed himself hurriedly to the fat man, who acquiesced with
-a grunt and a gesture of the hand. The young man went out, whilst the
-other remained at my side, fixedly staring at me. Even had I been able
-to exert my mind for conversation I could not have found my voice. It
-pained me to whisper. The stout man addressed me once in barbarous
-English; I languidly gazed at him in silence through my half-closed
-eyelids, and no more was said until the young man returned, bearing
-in one hand a cup and saucer and in the other hand a tumbler. The cup
-contained some warm soup; the tumbler some weak brandy and water. Now
-ensued a brief discussion between the two men as to whether the brandy
-should be administered before the soup or the soup before the brandy.
-The younger man’s views prevailed and, correctly judging that I was
-unable to feed myself, he drew the cane-bottom chair to my side, seated
-himself and fed me.
-
-The fat man stood with a stolid countenance, looking on. When I had
-swallowed the soup the young man applied the tumbler to my lips and I
-slowly drank.
-
-‘Now,’ said the young man, ‘do you feel more comfortable?’
-
-I whispered that I felt better.
-
-‘That is right,’ said he. ‘You must keep quiet whether you sleep or
-not. I am not a doctor, but I know a thing or two. I will visit you
-again in two hours with more soup and _eau-de-vie_.’ And he said to the
-fat man in his native tongue, ‘Come, uncle, she will do. She will not
-die. Let us leave her.’
-
-They then withdrew.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER IV
-
-ALPHONSE’S CONJECTURES
-
-
-I turned my face to the wall and closed my eyes, and two hours, and
-perhaps more than two hours, passed, during which I did not sleep. I
-then opened my eyes and looked about me. I had intelligence enough
-to observe that my skirt and bodice had been removed and that I was
-wrapped in coarse, thick blankets. Then, feeling a kind of pricking
-pain about the forehead, I raised my hand to my brow and stroked with
-my finger-nails the strips of parchment-like stuff with which it was
-plaistered. What can this be? I thought; and then a most awful and
-terrible feeling of bewilderment possessed me. ‘Who am I?’ I cried
-in a voice that was still no louder than a whisper, ‘and where am I?
-And--and--and----’
-
-The young man whom the stout person had called Alphonse entered,
-bearing a bowl of soup and a glass of weak brandy and water upon a tray.
-
-‘Have you slept?’ said he. I feebly shook my head. ‘Well,’ he exclaimed
-with the characteristic drawl of the Frenchman when he speaks English,
-‘it is not to be expected that you should sleep or that you should
-require sleep. You have been asleep for three days, and now you shall
-drink this soup and afterwards this cognac,’ and, seating himself, he
-fed me and gave me to drink as before. He placed the tray upon the deck
-of the little cabin, and sat contemplating me for a while with an air
-of respect that seemed a habit in him, mingled with an expression of
-commiseration.
-
-‘You will get on,’ he said, ‘you will recover. You will be strong by
-the time we get to Toulon.’
-
-‘Toulon?’ I said, speaking faintly.
-
-‘Yes, madame, Toulon. We are going to Toulon. This brick is now
-proceeding to that port.’
-
-‘Toulon?’ I exclaimed.
-
-‘Madame knows without doubt where Toulon is?’
-
-I gazed at him in silence.
-
-‘Does it fatigue you to speak?’ said the young man whom I will
-hereafter call Alphonse, for by no other name did I ever know him.
-
-‘No,’ said I in a whisper.
-
-‘Then tell me, madame, how it happened that you were in the miserable
-condition from which we rescued you?’
-
-I tried to think, but I could not think. I forced my gaze inwards, but
-beheld nothing but blackness. I strained the vision of my mind, but it
-was like straining the balls of the sight at a dark wall in a midnight
-of blackness.
-
-‘You do not remember,’ said the young Frenchman, shaking his head, ‘the
-circumstances that brought you into the miserable condition from which
-we released you?’
-
-‘I can remember nothing,’ I whispered. ‘What was my condition?’
-
-‘Stop till you hear me tell you the story,’ cried Alphonse, holding
-up two fingers, ‘and then you will remember it all. This ship is what
-is called a brick [brig], and her name is _Notre Dame de Boulogne_.
-She belongs to the port of Boulogne-sur-Mer. Her owner and captain is
-Pierre Regnier. He is my uncle. He is the gentleman that was here with
-me. I, madame, by occupation am a waiter. I am a waiter at the Hôtel
-des Bains, Boulogne-sur-Mer. Our customers are nearly all English, and
-we _garçons_ are expected to speak English. My native town is Toulon.
-My uncle Regnier, hearing that I had a holiday, says, “Come with me,
-Alphonse, in my brick to Toulon. That is my first port of destination.”
-I consented, and that, madame, explains how it is that I am here. Well,
-it was three mornings ago--only think! It was a dark morning, and the
-hour was between five and six. It was foggy, and there was a little
-rain. One of the sailors saw a boat; it was close to us; before he
-could give the alarm we had struck it--slightly only, very luckily,
-or, madame, where would you now be? Our ropes tore down the boat’s
-mast, and our sailors looking cried out that there was somebody in the
-boat. In some way the boat was entangled, and she was drawn along at
-our side, but the brick was sailing very slowly and the sea was not
-rough. My uncle Regnier commands the sailors to get into the boat,
-and they find you lying there. They bring you on board, and by this
-time there is a little daylight, and we see that there is blood upon
-your face, and that you are hurt here and here,’ and Alphonse, as he
-spoke, pointed to his brow and to his nose, above the bridge of it. ‘No
-sooner have we taken you on board than the boat liberates herself; she
-breaks away, and my uncle says, “Let her go.” Well, we carry you into
-the cabin, and I put a mirror to your mouth and find that you breathe.
-I am not a doctor, but I know a thing or two. I ask my uncle for
-sticking-plaister, and first I wash the wounds and then I strap them
-up, and they cease to bleed. No doubt, madame, you were wounded by the
-boat’s mast falling upon you. You reclined insensible in the boat when
-the mast fell. Was it so? Or was it the blow of the mast that made you
-insensible? No, naturally you would not remember. But it was certainly
-the mast that produced these wounds, for you lay with the mast upon
-you, and the sailors said they saw blood upon the mast. Luckily for
-you, madame, the side of the boat prevented all the weight of the mast
-from hitting you, or----’ he shrugged his shoulders with a grimace and
-extended his hands. ‘That now is all I can tell you.’
-
-‘You found me in a boat?’ I said.
-
-‘Oh yes, madame; certainly, yes.’
-
-‘In a boat? Why was I in a boat? I cannot remember. Oh, what has
-happened to me? I have no memory! It has all gone! Where am I? What is
-this that has come to me?’
-
-I raised myself upon my elbow, and instantly fell back, weak, sick,
-with an overwhelming feeling of horror upon me.
-
-‘Be calm, madame, be calm. I am not a doctor, but I know a thing or
-two. What is the memory? Tut! It will return. Chut! Before you arrive
-at Toulon you will have your memory. Let me hear your name, madame?’
-
-‘My name?’ I exclaimed, and I thought and thought, and my mind seemed
-to wrestle and struggle within me, like something living that has been
-buried alive.
-
-A light effort to recollect speedily grows into a sort of pain. This is
-true of trifles--as, for instance, a name, the recollection of which
-is not important, but you desire to pronounce it; the mind explores
-the gallery of the memory in vain for it, and the failure to find it
-grows into a worry and presently into a torment. Think, then, how it
-was with me when this young Frenchman asked me for my name, and I could
-not recall it! Recall it! Oh, that is to speak too mildly. Why, when I
-turned my mental gaze inwards it was like looking into a black abysm
-of a profundity impenetrable, upon the unreachable bottom of which
-was strown the wreckage of my past, were scattered the memorials of my
-life, for ever to be hidden from me, as I then believed.
-
-‘Let me hear your name, madame?’ said the young Frenchman.
-
-I thought and thought and answered, ‘I cannot remember my name.’
-
-‘Not remember your name! But that is droll. Does it begin with A? Does
-it begin with B?’ and he ran through the alphabet.
-
-I listened, and all these letters sounded as idly upon my ear as the
-noise of the wind or the sound of passing waters.
-
-‘But you are English?’ said he.
-
-Again I thought and thought, and replied in a whisper, ‘I cannot tell.’
-
-He ejaculated in French. ‘Will you not ask me some questions?’ said he.
-‘Perhaps whilst you ask questions you will be able to recollect.’
-
-‘What shall I ask?’ I answered, ‘I remember nothing to ask.’
-
-‘Ask about the boat we found you in.’
-
-‘Yes, tell me about that boat,’ said I.
-
-‘Aha!’ cried he, ‘you remember then. You know there was a boat?’
-
-‘I remember that you have told me that you took me from a boat.’
-
-‘Bravo! What does that signify? I am not a doctor, but I know a thing
-or two. Madame, if you can recollect what I say, memory you must have.
-Is it not so? The faculty you have. It is like a snake: all its body is
-asleep to the tip of its tail, but it is awake with its eyes. What do
-you think of that illustration, madame?’
-
-I listened to him and viewed him in silence. I felt terribly weak
-and ill, but far worse to support than this feeling of weakness
-and illness was the horror that was upon me--a horror I could not
-understand, an inward presence that was made the more dreadful by my
-not being able to find a reason for it.
-
-‘Do you ask me about the boat?’ said Alphonse. ‘She had two masts, but
-one was broken by us. Beyond that----’ he shrugged his shoulders. ‘She
-slipped away when it was still dark. That was a pity. There would no
-doubt have been a name upon her.’
-
-He ceased, and I observed that he fastened his eyes upon my hands.
-Then, after looking for some little time with attention at my face, he
-struck his forehead and cried, ‘What a fool am I not earlier to have
-thought of it! An instant, madame. I will go and bring you your memory.’
-
-He departed, and in a few minutes returned, holding a large oval
-handglass. ‘Now,’ he exclaimed, smiling, ‘look at yourself, madame,
-and, though I am not a doctor, I pronounce that all will return to you.’
-
-He elevated the glass and I looked at myself. But what did I see? Oh,
-reader, turn back to the description, in the opening pages of this
-story, of the lady seated at the head of the tea-table in the parlour
-of the house past the avenue of chestnuts; turn to it, and compare that
-face with what I saw reflected in the mirror held before me by the
-young Frenchman. The hair was snow-white; one eyebrow was snow-white;
-but the other eyebrow was concealed by a wide strip of white
-sticking-plaister. There were several such strips, which intersected
-each other upon the right brow, and one of them extended to the bridge
-of the nose, entirely sheathing the bone or cartilage, and leaving but
-little more than the extremity of the nose and the nostrils visible.
-The dark eyes were sunk and dim. The cheeks were hollow, and the
-complexion a dingy sallow, and as much of the brow as was left exposed
-and parts of the flesh of the face were covered with thin lines, as
-though traced by the point of a needle.
-
-This was the face that looked out upon me from that hand-mirror. I
-stared at it, but I did not know it. Yet it did not terrify me, because
-I was unable to remember my former face, and therefore no shock of
-discovery attended my inspection. No, the sight of that dreadful face,
-with its milk-white hair and plaistered brow, with here and there a
-stain of dry blood upon the plaister, did not terrify me. I gazed as
-though beholding something that was not myself, and still I knew that
-the face that confronted me was my own face, and _this_ it was, and
-not the face that deepened the indeterminable feeling of horror by
-quickening within me the awful silent question, ‘_Who am I?_’
-
-‘Now, madame,’ exclaimed Alphonse, ‘look steadily, and you will be able
-to pronounce your name and to remember.’
-
-I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again he had removed the
-glass. I tried to speak, but though he inclined his head he seemed
-unable to hear me. On this he put his finger to his lips, and, after
-viewing me a while with an expression of pity and astonishment, he went
-softly out.
-
-During the greater portion of the day my condition was one of stupor.
-Yet there were intervals when my mind was somewhat active. In these
-intervals I questioned myself, and I became acutely sensible of the
-indescribable feeling of horror that was upon me, and at such times I
-beheld, painted upon the gloom of the shelf on which I lay, the strange
-face that had gazed at me out of the hand-glass, and again and again
-I saw that head of a woman whose snow-white hair lay in long thick
-tresses about her shoulders and upon the rude bolster, though a portion
-of it was looped up and fastened in coils on the top of the head by
-hairpins, whose dark eyes were weak and without light, whose cheeks
-were hollow, and the skin of them and of her brow finely lined with
-innumerable wrinkles, whilst the whole countenance was rendered wild
-and repulsive by the lengths of white sticking-plaister that striped
-her temple.
-
-Thrice during that day I was visited by the young Frenchman, who, on
-each occasion, brought me soup and some red wine. He was accompanied
-on his third visit by the great fat man, his uncle, and by a short
-man with an immense moustache and several days’ growth of beard--a
-fierce-looking man, with dark knitted eyebrows, and gleaming black
-eyes with the savage stare of a gipsy in their intent regard. He was
-swathed in a coarse coat of pilot cloth, the skirts of which descended
-to his heels, and on his head was a fur cap which he did not remove as
-he stood viewing me.
-
-They watched Alphonse feed me; I was scarcely conscious of their
-presence, and even if I heeded them, which I doubt, their inspection
-caused me no uneasiness, so languid were my faculties, so sick even
-unto death did I feel, so profoundly bewildered was I by the questions
-I asked myself, and by the blackness which lay upon the face of my mind
-when I turned my gaze inwards and searched it.
-
-The fat man, Regnier, addressed Alphonse, who nodded and said to me:
-‘Well, madame, have you yet thought of your name?’
-
-I answered, ‘No.’
-
-‘And you cannot positively tell me that you are English?’
-
-‘I am speaking English; I speak no other tongue; I am English, then.’
-
-‘No,’ he exclaimed, smiling, ‘you might be American. And you say you
-do not speak any other language than English? How can you tell? You
-may have forgotten other languages in which you could converse. For
-example: you might be a German who speaks English excellently; and now
-by some caprice of the intellect you forget your German, and express
-yourself in English. I am not a doctor,’ he added, wagging his head,
-‘but I know a thing or two.’
-
-And, turning to the others, he addressed them swiftly and with great
-energy.
-
-At some hour of the night I fell asleep. When I awoke, the sunshine was
-streaming brilliantly upon the little circular porthole. I lifted up my
-head and then raised myself upon my elbows and found myself stronger. I
-also felt better; the feeling that had been like approaching death was
-gone and the sickness was passed. I heard the sounds of a fiddle and of
-a man’s voice singing in the next cabin. I listened to the voice and
-knew it to be that of the young Frenchman, Alphonse. The motion of the
-vessel was comparatively quiet. She was sailing somewhat on her side,
-but she rolled very lightly and the upwards and downwards movement was
-trifling. I felt that I had strength enough to sit up, but the upper
-shelf was too close to my head to suffer me to do so. I lay still and
-tried to think, and my thoughts ran thus:
-
-Who am I? The face that I saw in the mirror yesterday is mine, but
-it begets no recollection. I do not recognise it. It is mine, yet it
-is a face that I have never before seen. How, then, can it be mine?
-But since that unknown face must be mine, who am I? I was found
-lying insensible and wounded--and here I laid my fingers upon the
-sticking-plaister upon my brow--in an open boat. She had two masts
-and that is all they can tell me. How was it that I was in that boat?
-When did I enter her? I have been in this ship four days. How long was
-I in the boat, and from what part do I come? And then there was such a
-struggle of my mind that drops of perspiration started from my brow.
-I cannot express the agony that inward conflict caused me. I said to
-myself, Am I mad that I do not know who I am? What has happened to
-kill in me the power to recollect? What has happened to extinguish
-the vision in the eyes of my mind? All is black! I remember nothing
-down to the hour of my waking in this cabin; but since then everything
-that has happened, everything that has been said I remember. I can
-repeat the conversation of Alphonse, I can describe the appearance
-of his uncle and of the man who accompanied him; yes, and I can also
-describe accurately the face that I yesterday viewed in the glass
-which the young Frenchman held up before me. Therefore memory is not
-dead, neither can I be mad to be able to reason thus. Why then will not
-memory pronounce my name and give me back my past that I may know who I
-am, that I may know to what place to return? And I covered my face with
-my hands and wept.
-
-Presently my tears ceased to flow. The strains of the fiddle and the
-voice of the singer were silent in the adjacent cabin. What is there to
-assist me to recover my memory? I thought; and I turned my eyes upon my
-figure as I lay stretched upon that sleeping-shelf, and looked at my
-ringless hands; and then my gaze ran with wildness over as much as I
-could see of the little cabin, but no suggestion came. My mind seemed
-torpid, unable of itself to receive or to produce ideas.
-
-Somewhat later I heard a knock on the door. I exclaimed ‘Come in!’ and
-found that I had my voice again; yet there was nothing in the tone of
-it to help my memory. Alphonse entered and bade me good-morning.
-
-‘You look better, madame,’ said he; ‘do you feel better?’
-
-‘Yes; I feel stronger and better this morning.’
-
-‘Now, what did I tell you? Perhaps to-morrow you will be able to get
-up. Are you hungry?’
-
-‘I believe I can eat,’ I said.
-
-He snapped his fingers and instantly went out. When he returned he
-brought with him a cup of chocolate, some biscuits, marmalade and
-butter, and a boiled egg.
-
-‘What think you of this breakfast, madame, for a little brick? We have
-six hens on board, and this is the only egg this morning. Can you eat
-without help or shall I feed you?’
-
-‘I think I can eat without help if I sit up.’
-
-On this he put his hand into the shelf over my head and took several
-boards out of it. I could now sit up; he placed the tray on my knees
-and I ate and drank.
-
-‘You are very good, you are very kind to me,’ said I. ‘What return
-shall I be able to make--what acknowledgment----’ and I ceased eating
-to press my hand to my brow.
-
-‘Continue your breakfast,’ said he. ‘We will not talk of acknowledgment
-here. At Toulon you will obtain excellent medical advice. And now shall
-I tell you something?’ added he, with a smile.
-
-I looked at him.
-
-‘You are a lady. Your accent is that of the English lady of birth. I
-cannot mistake. I have waited upon many English ladies, and can always
-tell a lady of title. Do I assist your memory when I say that you are
-a lady of title?’ Seeing that I shook my head, he continued: ‘I call
-you madame. Perhaps I should say milady, or perhaps I should say miss.
-I beg your pardon, but you have no rings. A lady like you will have
-rings. Are they in the pocket of your dress? I ask, because if you saw
-your rings you might remember.’
-
-‘Where is my dress?’
-
-‘It is here,’ and he stepped to a part of the cabin near the door and
-held up the dress.
-
-I fastened my eyes upon it, but it suggested nothing.
-
-‘Has it a pocket?’ I said.
-
-He felt, and answered, ‘Yes, and there is something in it,’ and
-slipping in his hand he brought out a pocket handkerchief and a purse.
-‘Aha!’ he cried. He examined the handkerchief and said: ‘Here are two
-letters--“A. C.” Pronounce them.’ I did so. ‘Now what do they signify?’
-
-I turned them over and over and over again in my mind. ‘They suggest
-nothing,’ I said.
-
-‘Patience!’ he exclaimed, and opening the purse he looked into it.
-‘Nothing but money,’ he said, after examining the two or three
-divisions. ‘Here is one pound; and here,’ he continued, turning the
-money into his hand, ‘are two half-crowns, sixpence, and some pennies.
-Is there nothing more?’ He looked again, and exclaimed with a stamp of
-his foot: ‘Nothing but money!’
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER V
-
-ON BOARD ‘NOTRE DAME’
-
-
-On the afternoon of this second day of my rescue, I found myself
-sufficiently strong to rise and repose in an old stuffed arm-chair,
-which the young Frenchman brought from an adjoining cabin. My limbs
-were weak and I trembled exceedingly. Nevertheless, I contrived to put
-on my dress, which had been thoroughly dried, so Alphonse told me,
-at the fire in the fore-part of the ship where the sailors’ food was
-cooked.
-
-This obliging and most humane young Frenchman also supplied me with
-certain toilet requisites of a homely kind indeed; yet the refreshment
-of washing my face and hands and of brushing my hair seemed to give me
-new life. The young Frenchman hung his oval hand-glass upon the cabin
-wall, and when he was gone I surveyed myself.
-
-For a long while I could not lift the brush to my hair. I could only
-gaze and dumbly wonder with memory writhing sightless within me. I
-took the glass to the circular window; there was a strong yellow glow
-in the air outside, and the afternoon light focussed by that circular,
-tube-like window, lay upon my face. I intently examined my countenance,
-but I witnessed nothing that gave me the least hint of the past. I
-beheld a great quantity of snow-white hair, languid and lustreless dark
-eyes, the lids of which were half closed, hollow cheeks, a skin scored
-with innumerable fine lines, and the whole rendered repulsive by the
-stripes of stained plaister. When presently, having washed my face and
-hands, I began to brush my hair, many hairs came out on the brush.
-I passed my fingers through my tresses, and my hand came away with a
-quantity of white hair in it. I sighed and wondered, and trembled with
-weakness, and with the miserable horror that again visited me.
-
-But now, instead of wearily thinking over and over again ‘_Who am I?_’
-my mind was haunted by those two letters ‘A. C.,’ which the young
-Frenchman had found in the corner of my handkerchief. I uttered them
-over and over again, fancying that the initials might suddenly expand
-into the full name, for I believed that if I could remember my name I
-should be able to recollect everything else.
-
-When I had brushed and dressed my hair I drew forth my purse, and held
-it in my hand with my gaze riveted to it. But the black conflict in my
-mind grew too violent for my strength. I put the purse into my pocket
-and rocked myself in my chair, crying and crying until you would have
-thought my heart must break.
-
-The Frenchman punctually brought me food and drink. He repeated that
-he was certain I was a lady of title; he had waited on too many female
-members of the British aristocracy to mistake. ‘You will see that I
-am right, madame,’ said he, and with this conviction his politeness
-increased, though more respectful his manner could not be.
-
-During the evening I was visited by the uncle, whose speeches the young
-man translated.
-
-‘You are better,’ exclaimed this large, fat, stolid man, who could not
-speak without nodding. ‘Take the word of Captain Regnier, who is not
-often mistaken in his opinion. You are better, and you will soon be
-well. But you must recover your memory before we arrive at Toulon, that
-the British Consul at that port may be in a position to forward you to
-your friends.’
-
-‘But if I cannot remember, what is to become of me?’ said I.
-
-‘Oh,’ he answered, ‘that will be the affair of the British Consul. Why
-should not a Consul earn his salary? These gentlemen have very easy
-times.’
-
-‘It is settled,’ said Alphonse, ‘that you are English. It will be the
-British Consul’s business to find out all about you.’
-
-‘But if I cannot remember?’
-
-‘It will still be his business,’ said Captain Regnier, who understood
-me, ‘to find out all about you. My nephew is right. You are undoubtedly
-an English lady of distinction,’ and he bowed to me with a strange
-motion of his bulky form.
-
-The conversation continued in this strain for some time. They then left
-me.
-
-The next afternoon the young Frenchman persuaded me to leave my cabin
-for the living room in which Captain Regnier, his nephew, and the mate
-Hénin took their meals. The young man gave me his arm and conducted me
-to the living room with the grace and tender attention of a perfectly
-well-bred gentleman. I found myself in a cabin many times larger
-than the tiny berth I had quitted, yet it was a very small apartment
-nevertheless. It is necessary that I should describe this interior
-that you may be able to understand what befel me later on. Figure a
-small square room, the ceiling within easy reach of the hand, the
-walls of a grimy colour that might have been either brown or yellow.
-In the centre of the ceiling was a large window, or rather several
-windows in a frame not unlike those glass frames in which cucumbers
-are grown. This window, as I afterwards came to know, would be called
-a skylight. There was a square opening in the deck a little distance
-behind this skylight, with a short steep flight of steps ascending to
-it. This opening would be called the hatch, and the deck was gained by
-passing through it. Close behind this ladder or flight of steps were
-the doors of two berths, one of which I occupied, and under the steps I
-observed a large cask, one end of which came very close to the door of
-my berth. Do not suppose that I immediately noticed these details. When
-I first entered that grimy and somewhat gloomy living room I took heed
-of little indeed. There was a small square table in the middle of the
-cabin and on either hand were rough dark fixed boxes termed lockers.
-A lamp of a curious pattern swung under a beam overhead. Such was the
-cabin of the brig _Notre Dame de Boulogne_.
-
-Alphonse brought the arm-chair from my cabin and placed it near the
-table. He then placed a bundle of old numbers of the _Charivari_ on my
-lap, and I turned the pages with a mechanical hand, incessantly saying
-to myself, ‘What can the letters “A. C.” stand for?’
-
-I might know that it was a very fine evening by the clear crimson light
-that tinctured the glass in the frame overhead. The motion of the brig
-was easy and the lamp under the ceiling or upper-deck swung softly and
-regularly. I heard the murmur of hissing waters, and occasionally the
-voice of a man calling out abruptly echoed through the little opening
-that conducted to the deck.
-
-I sat alone for some time. After I had been sitting alone for about
-half an hour, viewing the French comic paper with an eye that beheld
-nothing, since it was for ever inwards turned, Alphonse came out of the
-cabin next to mine with a fiddle in his hand.
-
-‘Now madame,’ said he tapping it with the bow, ‘tell me what this is.’
-
-‘It is a fiddle,’ said I.
-
-‘Is not this a proof of memory?’ cried he. ‘How could you call it a
-fiddle if you did not know it to be a fiddle? and in this case to know
-is to remember.’
-
-‘You reason well,’ I said smiling, and a sad smile I fear it was that I
-gave him. ‘You converse as one who has been well educated.’
-
-‘I was very well educated, madame,’ he answered. ‘Those of our
-condition in England are not so well educated as we of France. We owe
-much to the priests. There are no such schoolmasters in the world.
-Otherwise I do not love priests. I am an infidel, and my opinions
-coincide with those of Voltaire and Volney. What is your religion,
-madame?’
-
-I was unable to answer him. He put his fiddle against his shoulder and
-asked if he should play me a tune and sing me a song. I begged him to
-do so and forthwith he played and sang. He sang some merry French
-rhymes and the air was very lively and pretty.
-
-Hardly had he ended his song when a lad with a dirty face and a
-quantity of brown hair hanging over his eyes came shambling down the
-stairs, bearing a large teapot and a dish of fried ham. Alphonse
-surveyed him with disgust, and withdrew to his cabin to put away his
-fiddle. The boy prepared the table for a repast that I afterwards
-understood was called supper by the Frenchmen. He lifted the lid of
-one of the large dark fixed boxes and brought out some plates and
-cups and saucers which he placed upon the table. He breathed hard and
-idled in his business of furnishing the table that he might stare at
-me. The meal, when ready, consisted of tea, ham, large brown biscuits,
-marmalade, and a great piece of cold sausage. Alphonse returned and
-stood looking at the table.
-
-‘This would not do for an English milord to sit down to,’ said he, ‘it
-would make him swear, and certainly your English milord knows how to
-swear. I should not like to wait upon company at such a table as this.
-But it is the sea--that sea which the English people love, but about
-which they know less than the French, though they talk much of their
-dominion maritime. Is there nothing on the table,’ he added with a
-comprehensive gesture of the hand, ‘that gives you an idea, madame?’
-
-‘Nothing.’
-
-‘Can you pronounce the names of what you see?’
-
-‘Yes.’
-
-‘How droll! how incredible! _Mon Dieu_, what a thing is the human
-intelligence! Because one little nerve or cell in the brain perhaps
-is wrong,’ here he tapped his forehead, ‘all is gloom. It is like
-turning off the gas. You go into a corner downstairs, you move a key
-no longer than that, and a great hotel of seventy bedrooms and thirty
-sitting-rooms is instantly plunged in darkness.’
-
-He was interrupted by the arrival of his uncle, who, pulling off his
-red cap, gave me a bow and seated himself. I drank a cup of the tea;
-there was no milk, yet I found the beverage refreshing. I also ate
-some biscuit and marmalade. The conversation was all about myself.
-Captain Regnier’s speeches were translated by Alphonse, and my mind
-was stimulated by what was said. I found myself capable of asking
-questions; but few were the questions I could find to ask. I had
-nothing to base them upon save the story of my rescue from an open
-boat, as it had been related to me, and the Frenchman had nothing more
-to tell me than that she was a boat with two masts.
-
-‘Was I alone in her?’ I asked.
-
-‘Oh yes, you were alone,’ answered Alphonse.
-
-‘How is it possible that I should be alone in an open boat?’ I
-exclaimed.
-
-‘It was a pleasure-boat,’ said Captain Regnier; ‘without doubt you
-sailed on an excursion from some port, and were blown away to sea.’
-
-‘But alone!’ I cried.
-
-‘You were alone, madame,’ said Alphonse, and, eagerly addressing his
-uncle as though a fine idea had occurred to him, he exclaimed; ‘Could
-you not tell by the build of the boat what her nationality was?’
-
-Captain Regnier shrugged his shoulders until his ears were hidden.
-‘What is there of nationality in a boat of that size?’ he answered.
-‘The boats of France, of England, of Europe in general--are they not
-very much alike--especially in the dark?’
-
-‘How long will it take you to arrive at Toulon?’ I asked.
-
-Again Captain Regnier, when this inquiry was translated, shrugged his
-shoulders and answered that it was a question for the wind.
-
-‘I will fetch the chart,’ said Alphonse, ‘and madame shall remark our
-situation for herself.’
-
-He arose and walked to the forward part of the living room. I had
-supposed that that part was wholly walled off from the other portion of
-the ship. But the young Frenchman, putting his hand upon a ring in the
-middle of the wooden wall, drew open a sliding door. Captain Regnier
-said in broken English: ‘My cabin is there.’
-
-In a few minutes Alphonse returned with a large map or chart, which he
-unrolled upon a part of the table that he cleared to receive it. It was
-too dark, however, to read the small print on the chart, and Captain
-Regnier, breathing short and heavily with the exertion of moving
-his vast shapeless form, lighted the lamp. My feebleness would not
-suffer me to rise and bend over the chart, and perceiving this the two
-Frenchmen held open before me the wide sheet of cartridge paper.
-
-‘There,’ said Captain Regnier, pointing to a part of the chart with a
-large fat forefinger on which glittered a thick silver ring, ‘there,’
-said he, ‘is the situation of _Notre Dame de Boulogne_ at the present
-moment.’
-
-‘That point of land,’ exclaimed Alphonse after translating, ‘is
-Finisterre. The brick then is off Finisterre. Does the name of
-Finisterre give you any ideas?’
-
-I continued to think, with my eyes rooted to the chart, and then I
-answered, ‘None.’
-
-‘Here is Toulon,’ said Captain Regnier, ‘and this is the course of the
-vessel to that port,’ and he ran his fat finger down the chart, past
-the coast of Spain and through the Straits of Gibraltar to the Gulf of
-Lyons.
-
-‘It is a long way to Toulon,’ said I.
-
-‘Yes,’ answered Alphonse, ‘it is a voyage.’
-
-Captain Regnier addressed his nephew. ‘Superb! Admirable!’ cried the
-young Frenchman. ‘Ah, my uncle is a clever man! What do you think he
-proposes? That you shall look at the coast of England and read the
-names upon it, and if you are an English lady who, as my uncle says,
-has been blown away in a pleasure-boat from a port in England, why----’
-and with great excitement he pulled the end of the chart out of his
-uncle’s hand, rolled it up until only that portion which contained the
-English Channel was left open, and then placed the chart thus rolled up
-upon my knees.
-
-I looked, and the two Frenchmen stood viewing me. I trembled with
-eagerness and fear, for I thought to myself, ‘Here may be the
-spark that will flash up the whole of the blackened galleries of my
-memory--and yet it may not be here!’ and shiver after shiver ran
-through me as I looked.
-
-‘Read aloud, madame; read aloud,’ exclaimed Alphonse.
-
-I read aloud; name after name I pronounced, taking the towns one after
-the other, from the Thames to the Land’s End, and then with trembling
-finger and whispering lips I traced the coast on the western side, even
-to the height of Scotland; and then I continued to read down on the
-eastern coast until I came to the River Thames.
-
-‘Ah, my God! my God!’ I cried, and I hid my eyes and sobbed. The chart
-rolled from my knees on to the deck.
-
-‘Patience,’ exclaimed Captain Regnier. ‘The memory will return. Give
-her some wine, Alphonse.’
-
-I drank, but though I recovered my composure there had happened such a
-deadly struggle within me, so fierce and rending a conflict--betwixt,
-what shall I say? the spirit, shall I call it, grappling with eyeless
-memory?--that I lay back in my chair, prostrated, incapable of speech.
-And how am I to convey to you, who are following my story, the effect
-produced by the words I read--by the names of the towns I read
-aloud--upon my mind? This was the difficulty I foresaw when I undertook
-to relate my experiences. But let me do my best. The effect was this:
-the names I uttered--that is to say, the names of those towns which I
-had heard of; for some little places which I had never heard of were
-marked upon the chart--the names, then, of places which I had heard of
-and known sounded as familiarly to my ear as my own name would have
-sounded before my memory went. But that was all. I could associate
-no ideas with them. They presented no images. They were perfectly
-familiar _sounds_ and no more. Though the chart was of French, or at
-all events of foreign manufacture, all names in Great Britain were
-printed as they are spelt by us. Therefore I could not console myself
-with reflecting that the words I had read were spelt in the French way,
-and without suggestion to one whose memory was gone. No, every word was
-in English. Often have I since wondered whether Piertown was included
-in that chart. Probably it was not. So insignificant a place would not
-be deemed worth marking down.
-
-‘The lady is undoubtedly English,’ said Captain Regnier to his nephew.
-‘Only a native of her country could pronounce its tongue as she does.’
-
-‘I am not so sure of that,’ answered Alphonse. ‘I have known Germans
-and Danes, and I have known Dutchmen and Swedes who have spoken
-English as well as madame. Uncle, I know a thing or two. Be a waiter
-and you will learn much to astonish you. But I agree that she is an
-Englishwoman, yet not because she speaks English well. Her style is
-English, and you will find that she is a lady of rank.’
-
-This conversation I was able to imperfectly follow. I felt too ill, too
-miserably sick at heart to sit in that cabin conversing, and begged
-Alphonse to conduct me to my berth. He did so with the same gentleness
-and courteous attention with which he had led me from it. Before
-leaving me he said, ‘If it is fine to-morrow I shall have the pleasure
-to take you on deck. The fresh air will do you a great deal of good.
-And, who knows? your memory doubtless left you while you were in the
-boat. It is, therefore, in the sea, and when you look at the sea it may
-come up to you out of it.’
-
-I enjoyed some hours’ sleep that night and awoke refreshed and
-stronger. I tried to remember if I had dreamt. Before I fell asleep it
-entered my head to fancy that if I dreamt of even a little bit of my
-past--that even if in a vision, the merest corner of the black curtain
-would rise to enable me to catch a glimpse of what was behind when I
-awoke--then by remembering _that_ I should end in remembering all. But
-when I tried to think if I had dreamt I found that my slumber had been
-without visions. I dwelt upon those dark hours of sleep, but they had
-been dreamless, and there was nothing to evoke.
-
-It was a fine bright morning. The vessel was sailing along almost
-upright, with a regular succession of floating falls and risings of
-that hinder part of her in which my berth was situated. The glory of
-the ocean morning was upon the waters; they flashed in blueish silver
-windily, and the dazzle rising off them streamed in trembling splendour
-through the porthole, and filled the little coarse and homely berth
-with ripples of lustre.
-
-Alphonse brought me some soup, biscuit, and a new-laid egg from the
-hencoop in which were stocked the few hens which the brig carried. When
-I had finished the repast I arose and dressed myself, and entered the
-cabin or living-room, where sat Alphonse playing the fiddle, whilst
-the mate, Hénin, seated on one of the chests or lockers, with half a
-tumbler of claret in one hand and a biscuit in the other, kept time by
-nodding.
-
-‘Very good, indeed, madame; very good, indeed!’ cried Alphonse, putting
-his fiddle down and clapping his hands. ‘I did not believe you would
-get up until the afternoon. Come! you are better, and you will be well
-before we arrive at Toulon, where you will find your memory waiting for
-you.’
-
-‘I do not understand,’ exclaimed the fierce-looking mate Hénin, staring
-at me with gleaming eyes, though he addressed Alphonse and spoke in
-French, ‘why it is that the lady does not remember. Can she recollect
-yesterday? Undoubtedly,’ he exclaimed with a savage gesture. ‘Then the
-brain that can recall yesterday should be able to bring back as many
-yesterdays as it needs. Let the lady try, and she will remember.’
-
-‘Bah!’ said Alphonse. ‘Do not mind this man,’ said he. ‘He does not
-understand English, and I can say what I like. Do not suppose him
-fierce because he looks so. He has a tender heart, and weeps easily.
-Yet there is not a more excellent sailor in the French marine; at
-least my uncle says so, and my uncle is a very clever man. Shall I now
-conduct you on deck?’
-
-‘I should like to go on deck,’ said I.
-
-‘Let me see; you will want a chair. You are not yet able to stand long
-or walk very far, and you have no covering for your head.’
-
-I put my hand to my hair and exclaimed, ‘Was I without covering to my
-head when you found me?’
-
-‘No. You wore a straw hat. It was crushed by the fall of the mast. When
-the sailors raised you to bring you on board, the hat fell off, and
-they left it in the boat. One of the men in the bad light saw a dark
-mark upon the straw, and he said it might be blood.’
-
-‘It was a straw hat?’ said I. ‘A straw hat?’ and I mused until I began
-to _think_ myself into one of those black and frightful conflicts of
-mind which had before prostrated me with their unspeakable anguish. I
-checked the horrible internal struggle by forcing myself to speak, and
-so diverting my thoughts.
-
-‘What is there that I can wear to protect my head?’
-
-The mate Hénin, who continued to stare at me with fiery eyes, said,
-‘What does the lady say?’ Alphonse explained. ‘Wait,’ cried Hénin
-fiercely, and, putting down his glass and biscuit, he went to the
-ring in the forward wall of the cabin, slided the door open, and
-disappeared. In a minute he returned with a long cloak hanging over his
-arm. He ran his eye over my figure, then held up the cloak to compute
-its size. It was a dark green cloak, of a very monkish pattern; it had
-a large hood, and was comfortably lined with some sort of delicate fur.
-
-‘Let the lady wear this,’ exclaimed the man. ‘It is almost new, and
-therefore clean. She is welcome to it,’ and he flung it into the
-outstretched hands of Alphonse, and, with a fierce countenance, resumed
-his seat.
-
-I put on the cloak; it was loose, and completely enveloped me. I then
-drew the hood over my head, and, assisted by the young Frenchman,
-painfully ascended the steep steps and gained the deck. The first
-sweep of the fresh sunlit wind almost overpowered me; I reeled and
-closed my eyes, but this swooning sensation speedily passed.
-
-The huge fat figure of Captain Regnier stood near the wheel; Alphonse
-called to him to give me the support of his arm until the chair was
-brought on deck. After the comparative gloom of the cabin the brilliant
-morning sunshine nearly blinded me, and for some while I was forced to
-keep my eyes half closed. In a few moments Alphonse came up the stairs
-with the arm-chair, which he placed in the sunshine, but in a part of
-the deck that was sheltered from the wind by the box or hood that was
-fitted over the little hatch that conducted to the cabin. And now, my
-sight having grown used to the dazzle, I looked about me.
-
-I found myself on the deck of a small vessel, whose shape resembled
-that of a box rather than that of a ship. She had two masts, across
-which were stretched sheets of patched and discoloured canvas. On the
-top of the hinder mast was a small red streamer, surmounted by a little
-brass ship that shone like a ray of white fire in the air as it pointed
-with its red streamer attached directly in the path along which the
-brig was being steered. The planks of the deck were dark, and every
-object that the eye rested upon suggested dirt and neglect. I remarked
-a boat painted white standing upside down near a little wooden house
-like a sentry-box, whose roof was pierced by a chimney from which a
-trail of dark smoke was blowing over the bows. I gazed earnestly at
-that boat; it seemed a familiar object to me; all else was strange--the
-tall masts, the wide-spread sails, the straight black lines of rigging,
-the dingy green paint of the bulwarks, the twenty details of rope
-hanging in coils, of pumps, of skylight, and I know not what else,
-for how should a woman be able to give names to the strange furniture
-of the sea? All else was new. I searched my dark mind, and the picture
-of this brig sailing along with the wind blowing over her stern into
-her dingy wings was as novel as though she were the only vessel in the
-world, and I was beholding her for the first time.
-
-But the boat seemed familiar. I could not take my eyes off it for some
-minutes. Why should this be? I asked; and then my sightless memory
-began to struggle, and I addressed the young Frenchman, who stood at my
-side, for the relief to be found in speech.
-
-‘I seem to have seen that boat before.’
-
-‘Impossible, madame.’
-
-‘What does the lady say?’ exclaimed Captain Regnier, who leaned against
-the bulwarks with his hands in his pockets opposite me.
-
-Alphonse repeated my words. The large fat man pulled one hand out of
-his pocket to emphasise his speech with gestures.
-
-‘My uncle says no. You cannot remember that boat,’ said the young
-Frenchman. ‘He has owned this brick twenty years, and the boat is
-twenty years old, and in all that time she has belonged to the brick.’
-
-‘Why, then, should she seem familiar to me?’
-
-He reflected, and then put his forefinger to the side of his nose.
-
-‘I think I know. We took you out of a boat; all your sufferings were
-in a boat; the idea of a boat has been burnt in upon your mind by pain
-and misery; and now when you see a boat you cry out--“Ah! surely I know
-her.” You will say that of any boat. It is a very good sign. I say it
-is a very good sign that you should think you know that boat.’
-
-He then volubly addressed his uncle, who nodded, and grunted, and
-shrugged, and appeared to agree.
-
-I remarked two or three men about the deck in the fore-part of
-the brig. They were ill-clad, lean and yellow, and grim, dark and
-forbidding for want of the razor. They stared very hard at me, ceasing
-in their work to do so, and certainly their curiosity was more than
-justified, for I can well believe that I made an extraordinary figure
-with my plaistered and withered face, and white hair showing in the
-twilight of the large hood, and the rest of me draped by the cloak to
-the very plank of the deck.
-
-It was a beautiful morning, the hour about eleven. The ocean was of the
-colour of sapphire, and it flowed with the brig in long and regular
-lines, and here and there the froth fitfully flashed and faded. The
-sky on the left was shaded with a high delicate network of cloud, but
-elsewhere the firmament was of purest blue, graced and relieved by
-widely scattered little bodies of pearl-like vapour, all sailing our
-way. The wind was sweet and mild, and now every breath that I took of
-it seemed to give me a new spirit.
-
-‘Look there, madame,’ exclaimed Alphonse, ‘you have not yet seen that
-beautiful sight,’ and directing my eyes over the bulwark on the right,
-I beheld a stately ship, a large, lovely, and radiant fabric, with
-sail upon sail of the milk-white softness of sifted snow swelling and
-diminishing one above another to an altitude that made one think of the
-little gold buttons on the top of her masts as stars. She was passing
-us swiftly. A small white line of foam throbbed along the long red
-streak that rose up her side a little above the level of the water.
-Soft flames of white fire broke from many parts of her as she swept
-her windows and the glass upon the deck and many ornaments of furniture
-of polished brass into the direct flash of the sun.
-
-‘Oh! that is a beautiful sight, indeed,’ said I.
-
-‘Does it give you no idea, madame?’ said the young Frenchman; then
-finding that I continued to gaze without answering him, he exclaimed:
-‘Look now at the sea. Is there not something in the sight of that sea
-to make you remember? Figure land yonder, and imagine for yourself a
-town upon it. What sort of town shall it be? Come, it must be the town
-you sailed from in the boat with two masts. And see now if we cannot
-create it. It will have a pier--there will be sands: or say it has no
-pier, and the cliffs are white----’
-
-‘Oh God, my heart will break,’ I cried.
-
-Another day and yet another day passed. And now I had been a little
-longer than a week on board the French brig.
-
-It was Sunday. The day had broken in gloom, and when I arose and
-dressed myself at ten o’clock I could scarcely see in my cabin. There
-did not seem to be any wind. The vessel was rolling somewhat heavily,
-and alternately she plunged the circular window of my cabin under
-water, and then the dusk turned black with nothing but a green glimmer
-where the porthole was; and then as she rolled away on the other side
-and lifted the little window weeping and roaring out of the swollen
-hill of green water, there was a noise as of the explosion of guns; but
-no foam flew about the window, whence I judged that the vessel was not
-making any progress.
-
-By this time I had grown accustomed to the motions of a ship at sea.
-I moved without difficulty, and poised myself to the slanting of the
-deck under my feet with something of the ease of habit. When I had
-dressed myself on this Sunday morning I put on the cloak that the mate
-Hénin had lent me, and entered the little state cabin or living room.
-The young Frenchman, Alphonse, sat at the table with an open volume
-before him. He looked up as I approached.
-
-‘Well,’ said he, ‘is it as bad as you feared?’
-
-‘Yes,’ I answered; ‘if my hair goes on falling out as it now does, I
-shall be bald before we arrive at Toulon.’
-
-He smiled and said: ‘Oh no! You have a great deal of hair. Many ladies
-have I seen, but never one with such abundance of hair as you.’
-
-‘I am losing it fast.’
-
-‘It will grow again. It is not as if you were very old.’
-
-‘Very old!’ I exclaimed, ‘what is my age? What do you think it
-is? Tell me. I earnestly wish to guess.’ Then, observing a certain
-expression to enter his face, I added with vehemence: ‘Do not attempt
-to flatter me. Tell me exactly what you believe my age to be. Even out
-of _that_ may come an idea to me.’
-
-‘It would not be fair to you to guess,’ said the young man, with the
-little French smirk that had entered his face swiftly fading out of
-it; ‘look how your forehead is bound up! Figure yourself in good
-health--your face entirely visible--_bien coiffée_ besides--but you ask
-me for the truth, and I will tell you what I suppose. You are, madame,
-about forty-five years old.’
-
-‘It may be so,’ I answered, and my head sank, and for some moments
-my senses seemed to leave me, so benumbing was the bewilderment that
-possessed me as I tried to think, wondering why I could not remember
-my age, wondering why I could not remember my name, wondering whether
-the sable curtain before which the hand of calamity had placed me would
-ever rise.
-
-‘The French,’ said Alphonse, ‘are hair-dressers in perfection. There
-is a hair-dresser of genius at Toulon. He is my friend. I will speak
-to him, and it will be strange if he does not possess the secret
-of preventing your hair from falling out.’ He closed his book and
-continued: ‘I believe you will not much longer require to wear that
-plaister, yet I would advise you to keep it on until you are able to
-consult a physician. A friend of mine at Toulon is an excellent doctor.
-I will speak to him about you. But how gloomy--how gloomy is this day!
-I hope there will not be a storm. Would you like to go on deck?’
-
-I mounted the steps and looked about me. The scene of ocean was indeed
-a melancholy one. The sea was running in large heaps of ugly green,
-and there was not a breath of air to wrinkle the polished slopes. The
-sky was a wide and sullen shadow of grey, nowhere broken, and the
-sweeping folds of the water worked and throbbed all round the base of
-that mighty stretch of shadow as though they washed the foot of a vast
-circular wall. The vessel rolled from side to side, and at times her
-canvas slapped the mast with a noise like a sudden clap of thunder. At
-a distance lay a ship rigged as ours was. She had very little canvas
-set, but what she showed was white, and it glared out like the breaking
-head of a sea as she swayed her masts.
-
-Mate Hénin was on deck. He stood at the bulwark, and supported his
-rocking figure by holding a rope, and the scowl upon his face as he ran
-his gleaming eyes over the sea was as dark as the scowl upon the sky.
-
-‘How is this weather to end?’ called Alphonse to him.
-
-‘In wind,’ he answered.
-
-‘Will it be a fair wind?’
-
-‘The devil alone knows. But better a hurricane than this.’ He uttered
-a malediction. ‘Is it to be Toulon with us? Or is it to be six months
-of the Bay of Biscay? Are we to run short of water and provisions? I
-am no oyster, I. Give me a hurricane sooner than six months of the Bay
-of Biscay in this tumbling shell.’ He uttered another malediction, and
-scowled even yet more fiercely as he looked up at the sky and then
-around him.
-
-Alphonse translated his speech with a smile. ‘Do not mind him,’ he
-exclaimed; ‘he has a tender heart and no man sheds tears more easily.’
-
-It began to rain and I returned to the cabin. I removed the cloak,
-seated myself on a locker and gave myself up to thought. If I could
-not remember who I was, what was to become of me? When this brig
-arrived at Toulon whither should I proceed for shelter and protection?
-Captain Regnier had spoken of the British Consul; but I was a stranger
-to the British Consul. I had nothing whatever to communicate to him
-about my past, saving that I was found far out at sea in a little
-sailing-boat, and rescued by the people of the brig _Notre Dame de
-Boulogne_. Would he house me or elsewhere find shelter and food for
-me until he had discovered who I was? But how would he be able to
-discover who I was? And when he found that inquiry was futile would he
-go on sheltering and protecting me? My thoughts filled me with terror.
-I was ignorant of the duties of a Consul, and I could not understand
-that there might be anything to hope or to expect from him. Then,
-again, my memory being gone, I was as much at fault when I reasoned
-forwards as when I directed the eyes of my mind backwards. I could not
-conceive, for instance, that on my landing at Toulon, and representing
-my dreadful and helpless condition to the British Consul, he would
-take steps to send me home, because I had no imagination of home. I
-could not positively affirm that I was English; I was in the condition
-of a mute--nay, I was far worse off than a mute, because a mute has
-his memory, and can express what is in his mind by writing or by dumb
-show; whereas I had nothing to tell. I could speak, and the words I
-pronounced were English; but that was all. However my tale might run,
-it would be without meaning: and when I thought of myself as landing
-at Toulon, of arriving at a place where I had not a friend--though
-if there had been twenty friends there I should not have remembered
-them--when I thought of the few shillings my purse contained, that
-all the wearing apparel I possessed was upon me, that I should not be
-able to say who I was, where I came from, in what part of the world my
-home was situated--when I thought thus I trembled in every limb, my
-heart felt cold as stone, and I strove to ease the agony of my mind by
-weeping; but no tears flowed. I had wept so often of late throughout
-the days, and in the dark hours of the nights, that the source of my
-tears seemed to have been dried up.
-
-The good-natured Alphonse, observing the dreadful and insupportable
-misery in my face and posture, thought to cheer me up; he sat beside
-me, entreated me not to fret, and spoke cheerfully of the future. But
-my inward anguish was too extreme to suffer me to listen to him, and
-after awhile he withdrew to his cabin and played somewhat stealthily
-upon his fiddle, thinking, perhaps, I could not hear him, yet wishing
-to divert himself.
-
-Shortly before the cabin dinner hour, that is to say, a little before
-one o’clock, there was a sudden commotion on deck, a noise of ropes
-hastily flung down, the sounds of men running about, accompanied by
-Captain Regnier’s bull-like bawlings. In a few minutes I heard a
-strange hissing, and the vessel leaned over and continued to lean
-down until she had arrived at so sharp an angle that I was only saved
-from sliding off the locker by pressing at the whole length of my
-arms against the table. The shouts of the men on deck were confused
-and incessant. Every man seemed to be roaring out orders on his own
-account. There was likewise an alarming noise of canvas violently
-shaken. The vessel was plunging heavily, and every now and then she
-received a blow from a sea that thrilled through her as a house shakes
-when a loaded van is passing the door, and every blow was followed by
-a fierce noise of seething like the sound of water poured on fire.
-
-The young Frenchman’s cabin door opened and Alphonse crawled out on his
-hands and knees. He climbed up the slope of the deck to the side of the
-table at which I sat, and gazed at me with an ashen countenance.
-
-‘This is terrible!’ he cried.
-
-‘What has happened?’ I asked.
-
-‘A frightful storm has burst upon us!’ he answered. ‘Blessed Virgin!
-why does not the brick lift herself out of the water?’ and here he
-made the sign of the Cross upon his breast, which led me to suppose
-that, like many other Frenchmen, and like many other people who are not
-Frenchmen, Alphonse was an infidel only in fine weather.
-
-We remained seated, hearkening with terrified ears to the uproar on
-deck and to the thunderous beating of the sea against the little
-vessel. After some while the brig grew more upright, the halloaing
-above ceased, and there was nothing to be heard save the creaking of
-the old structure as it pitched and wallowed, and a subdued noise of
-angry, raving, foaming waters.
-
-The light in the hatchway was eclipsed, and the immense mass of Captain
-Regnier descended the steps. His coat was streaming, and on his gaining
-the cabin he pulled off his sodden red cap and flung it with a furious
-gesture into a corner.
-
-‘Oh, uncle, what is the matter?’ cried Alphonse, clasping his hands.
-
-‘Matter!’ answered Captain Regnier, ‘why here is a dead foul wind
-blowing strong enough, if it lasts for twenty-four hours, to lose us
-every league we have gained in the last three days.’
-
-‘Is there any danger?’ asked Alphonse.
-
-The large fat man eyed him in silence for a moment, then, pulling a big
-silver watch from the waistband of his trousers, he roared out: ‘Let us
-dine or there will be plenty of danger.’
-
-This said he ascended the steps until his head was in the air above the
-cover, and having delivered himself of a bull-like shout he returned,
-pulled off his great overcoat, and seated himself in his shabby
-velveteen jacket.
-
-‘But you will tell me if there is any danger?’ said Alphonse.
-
-‘I will tell you nothing until I have dined,’ answered Captain Regnier.
-
-The young man sat with a white face viewing his uncle wistfully. There
-was expression enough in the fat Frenchman’s stolid face to reassure
-me; moreover, I could not suppose that he would think of his dinner and
-apparently of nothing but his dinner in a time of danger. Yet, had he
-informed Alphonse that the brig was in peril I should have listened
-to the news with indifference. My dejection was heart-crushing. I was
-wretched to the inmost recesses of my spirit with the despair that
-comes of hopelessness, and never before had I felt so lonely.
-
-The brig’s movements were horribly uncomfortable. It was blowing very
-hard and the sea was growing. I do not know whether the vessel was
-sailing--that is to say, whether she was making any progress through
-the water--but they were steering her so as to cause her side to form
-an angle with the gulfs of the foaming billows, and the dance of the
-light structure was as though she must at any moment go to pieces.
-
-Despite the jerky, convulsive, dislocating movements, the grimy French
-lad who waited in the cabin contrived to place the dinner upon the
-table. The meal was composed largely of soup, and I cannot conceive
-how the youth managed. I drank a little soup and ate a piece of
-biscuit, and this with a small draught of red wine formed my dinner.
-Alphonse ate nothing; he continuously gazed at his uncle, who addressed
-himself to the meal with both hands, gradually lying back as he drained
-the contents of a large tin dishful of soup, and then placing a bottle
-half full of wine at his lips and emptying it, and then grasping a
-large piece of sausage with one hand and a whole biscuit with the other
-and rapidly devouring them.
-
-‘This is not a moment to think of knives and forks,’ said he; ‘if we
-are to perish let us meet our end well lined.’
-
-‘To perish!’ cried Alphonse.
-
-‘Bah!’ exclaimed Captain Regnier, with his mouth full. ‘Did you not
-tell me the other day that if I were a waiter I would know a thing or
-two? Well, I now imagine myself a waiter, and am talking as one. As
-a waiter I pronounce that we shall perish, but as a sailor I say no!
-no! we shall not perish this time. There are many napkins remaining
-for you to fashion into fans and cocked-hats before you are drowned by
-shipwreck.’
-
-The young Frenchman’s vivacity immediately returned to him.
-
-‘It is inspiriting to even think of napkins at such a time,’ said he.
-‘They awaken fancies of the hotel, the _table-d’hôte_, of a thousand
-agreeable things. After Toulon--the deluge. You do not catch me
-returning to Boulogne with you, uncle. Give me the railway. I now
-detest the sea. Ciel! how the ship leaps. And remark this poor lady.
-How has the sea served her?’ He snapped his fingers, and extended his
-hand for a piece of the sausage.
-
-Both men spoke in French, but I understood enough of their discourse to
-enable me to repeat the substance of it.
-
-‘If this wind holds,’ said Captain Regnier, ‘it will be the deluge
-before Toulon. A thousand thunders! To think that it should come on to
-storm dead ahead! What virtue is there in patience when there is no end
-to waiting?’
-
-‘Why not sail the ship to a convenient port,’ said Alphonse, ‘and wait
-there in comfort and serenity until the weather changes?’
-
-‘Go! you are a sot,’ responded Captain Regnier, scowling at him.
-
-The motion was so excessive that it pained me to sit upright. I spoke
-to Alphonse, who addressed his uncle, and the captain, going to my
-berth, brought the mattress from the sleeping shelf, and placed it on
-one of the chests or lockers on what is called the ‘lee side’--that
-is, on the depressed side of the vessel--and when he had fetched the
-bolster I lay down.
-
-The afternoon slowly passed away. The skylight was shrouded with wet,
-and the shadow of the storm-coloured sky was upon it, and in the cabin
-it was so gloomy that Alphonse told the lad who waited at table to
-light the lamp. I was not sea-sick, but the swift risings and fallings
-of the brig gave me a dreadful headache, and so dimmed my sight that I
-could scarcely see.
-
-You who read this may very well know the sea as it is to be experienced
-in large ships. You may have rolled and plunged over mountainous waves
-in a steam-vessel of vast bulk, whose cabin is radiant with mirrors and
-lamps of polished metal, and with furniture as sumptuous as that of the
-drawing-rooms of a palace! You have had a luxurious berth to withdraw
-to, attentive stewards or stewardesses to minister to you, and all the
-while you have been comforted with a sense of incessant progress, with
-the assurance of the pulse in everything that you touch, in everything
-that you feel, that the noble engines are magnificently doing their
-work, and ruthlessly forcing the crushing and shearing stem of the
-powerful metal structure along the path that leads to your destination.
-
-But exchange such a ship as this for a brig of small burthen; exchange
-the brilliant interior of the great ship for the dingy, snuff-coloured
-living-room of a little brig with scarcely light to see by, and
-with the air full of the thunder of the warring without. Often the
-lamp swung so violently under the beam from which it dangled that I
-languidly watched to see it extinguish its own flame against the upper
-decks. There was a sickening sound of sobbing waters over my head, and
-there were many furious discharges of spray or wet upon the planks,
-the noise of which was like the abrupt fall of a terrible hailstorm
-liberated from the black breast of a tropical electric cloud.
-
-The afternoon passed and the evening came, and when Captain Regnier
-descended from the deck to eat his supper he told his nephew, who had
-hidden himself in his berth during the afternoon, that the weather was
-moderating, and that, though he expected the night would be very dark,
-the wind would enable him to make sail. It befel as he had predicted.
-By seven o’clock the wind was no more than what sailors would term a
-moderate breeze, and the sea was fast going down, though at this hour
-the brig was still plunging heavily. It was pitch dark, however, on
-deck. When the mate Hénin came into the cabin to fetch a warm coat to
-keep his watch in, or, in other words, to wear whilst he took charge
-of the brig from eight o’clock until some late hour of the night, he
-addressed a number of sentences with great vehemence and impetuosity to
-the young Frenchman, who, on the mate withdrawing, informed me that
-Hénin declared that in twenty-eight years’ experience of the sea he had
-never remembered such blackness as was at this time upon the ocean.
-
-‘Would you believe it, madame?’ cried Alphonse. ‘Hénin swears that the
-very foam which breaks close alongside the brick is not to be seen.
-What do you think of that?--I will go and look at the night for myself.’
-
-He ascended the steps, but speedily returned. ‘It is raining,’ said
-he, ‘and it is cold too, I can tell you. And does Hénin call it black?
-Black is too weak a word. I will tell you what it is like: it is like
-the blackness of a stormy night, when you look at it after your eyes
-have been fearfully dazzled by a flash of lightning.’
-
-All this while I remained extended upon the mattress upon the locker,
-covered by mate Hénin’s cloak, and with head pillowed on the rude
-bolster that had been withdrawn from my sleeping-shelf. Soon after the
-mate had gone on deck, Captain Regnier came down the stairs. He took
-his seat at the table under the lamp, and Alphonse produced a box of
-dominos. The captain, who on a previous occasion had learnt that I did
-not object to the smell of tobacco, filled a strange pipe formed of a
-great Turk’s head and a long curved stem, and smoked. He likewise put
-his hand into an adjacent locker and mixed himself a tumbler of white
-liquor which, that it might not upset, he placed upon a small tray that
-was oscillating above the table. The two men then played with singular
-gravity, the fat man smoking with stolid deliberation, whilst the young
-man watched the game with impassioned intentness.
-
-The little brig groaned and pitched and tossed; the skylight glass
-overhead lay in panes of ebony, and duskily and gleamingly reflected
-the figures of the two domino players; through the open hatch that
-conducted to the deck came the roaring and hissing noise of conflicting
-waters and the whistling of the wind in the rigging. It was raining
-hard; the rain-drops lashed the glass of the skylight. I gazed at the
-two men, but I did not know that I watched them. All the while I was
-asking myself, What can the letters ‘A. C.’ stand for? And I tried to
-recollect the names of women, but in vain. Then I said to myself, Am
-I English, or is it likely that the young Frenchman was right when
-he said that I might be a German who spoke English with a perfect
-accent, and who now, by some caprice of the reason cruelly afflicted by
-suffering, is compelled to speak in the English tongue, forgetting her
-own?
-
-Many extraordinary thoughts or fancies of this kind visited me as I lay
-watching those two domino players. Imagine yourself without memory,
-not merely unable to recollect in this or in that direction: no. But
-imagine your mind without power to suggest a single idea to you, to
-submit a single image to you that had existence previous to an hour
-comparatively recent!
-
-At nine o’clock I withdrew to my berth. By this hour the two men had
-finished with their dominos. Alphonse replaced the mattress and bolster
-in my sleeping-shelf, and whilst he was thus occupied I said to him: ‘I
-feel a strange horror upon me to-night. There is a sense of loneliness
-in me that seems to be breaking my heart.’
-
-‘Madame must cheer up. She will find her memory at Toulon.’
-
-‘My mind is hopelessly dark and silent. I have been all this evening
-trying to think, and the struggle has made me ill.’
-
-‘I will fetch you some brandy and water.’
-
-‘No, thank you. What you gave me half an hour ago is sufficient. It
-is not that--I dread the darkness of the long night--the fearful
-solitude--oh, the fearful solitude! Will not Captain Regnier permit me
-to burn a light.’
-
-‘He is timid, and very properly timid,’ answered Alphonse. ‘Conceive
-a fire breaking out. A fire at sea, and on such a night as this!’
-He shuddered, and then looked up at the strange globular lamp that
-depended from the centre of the ceiling of my cabin. We conversed with
-the door open, and the lamp that burned in the living room shed a faint
-light upon the interior of my berth. ‘But it _is_ lonely,’ the young
-Frenchman continued in a voice of pity. ‘I dare say my uncle will not
-mind--at all events he need not know.’ He raised his hand to the lamp,
-and with a twist removed the metal bowl or compartment for the oil and
-mesh out of the globe. ‘I will fill this, and bring it back to you,’
-said he.
-
-He returned after a short absence, lighted the wick, and turned it down
-that it might burn dimly, then screwed it into the globe. I felt deeply
-grateful, and took his hand and held it whilst I thanked him. He left
-me, and putting on mate Hénin’s cloak to keep me warm, I got into my
-miserable little sleeping shelf and lay down, grateful for, and feeling
-even soothed by, being able to see.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VI
-
-A TERRIBLE NIGHT
-
-
-I may have slept for an hour or two; but for the light of the lamp, I
-believe, I should not have closed my eyes in rest, so unendurable would
-my spirits have found the heavy burthen of the darkness of the night. I
-opened my eyes. The lamp burned dimly. The vessel was rolling somewhat
-briskly, and I seemed to hear a louder noise of wind than I had noticed
-before falling asleep. The creaking throughout the cabin was ceaseless
-and distracting. The rudder jarred heavily upon its hinges, and every
-time a billow smote it I felt a shock as though the brig had struck on
-a rock.
-
-On a sudden I heard a cry. It came faint and weak to my ears through
-the deck and through the door; but I heard it, and I caught the note of
-horror in it, and never shall I forget that cry! Whenever I recall it I
-think of the wailing scream of some strange wild tropic beast, wounded
-to the death and faltering to the edge of a river, and there sending
-its death cry into the quiet Indian night.
-
-The sound was re-echoed over my head, followed by a hasty rush of
-feet. A few moments later there was a terrific blow. The concussion
-was as though the brig had blown up. I heard the rending and smashing
-and splintering noises of falling masts and of bulwarks crushed. The
-brig heeled over and over, and yet over; one might have supposed that
-some mighty hand had grasped her side and was slowly swaying and
-pressing her upside down. Fortunately for me the wild and inexpressible
-slope of the vessel to one side laid me against the wall to which my
-sleeping-shelf was fixed, and so I could not fall out. Had it been the
-other way about I must certainly have been flung from my bed, when, in
-all probability, I should have broken a limb if not my neck.
-
-Whilst the brig was in the act of heeling over, something heavy
-immediately outside my berth gave way, struck the door, which, opening
-outwards, was not burst, though the blow it received might well have
-demolished the whole of the wooden wall in which the door was hung.
-I tried to get out of the sleeping-shelf, but the slope continued so
-sharp that I could not stir. There were many noises, but my cabin was
-situated in the stern of the brig, and the confused sounds reached my
-ears dully. When the vessel leaned over immediately after she had been
-struck, the cargo in the hold gave way, raising an instant’s thunder of
-rattling and clattering, and shaking the whole structure to its heart.
-I strained my ears for human voices, but caught but a dim far-away
-shout or two. I could not get out of my sleeping-shelf, and, believing
-that the brig was sinking, I screamed to the young Frenchman, who I
-supposed was in the next cabin, but got no answer. I screamed again and
-yet again, but no reply was returned.
-
-What had happened? Ignorant as I was of the sea, how could I
-imagine what had happened? Was Captain Regnier wholly wrong in his
-calculations, and had he run his brig ashore? The sea was leaping
-angrily over the sloping side in which the little porthole of my cabin
-was fixed. It broke over the window as though the hull of the brig
-had been an immovable rock, and every billow roared and hissed as it
-fell back after its furious leap shattered and boiling. Presently the
-vessel regained a somewhat upright posture, but her movements were
-terribly staggering. She rose and fell, and rolled from side to side
-convulsively. She appeared to be labouring in the heart of an angry sea
-that was ridging towards her from all points of the compass.
-
-I was almost out of my mind with terror, and the moment the decreased
-slope of the brig enabled me to stir, I sprang from my shelf, and
-hastily putting on the few articles of raiment which I had removed,
-and clothing myself in mate Hénin’s cloak, I made for the door, too
-terrified to appreciate the blessing of having a light to see by or
-to guess what my sensations would have been had the berth been in
-darkness. I grasped the handle of the door, but the door would not
-open. I pushed it with all my might, but it would not stir an inch. I
-looked to see if, when I turned the handle, the latch shot back. Yes!
-the latch shot back, and if it depended upon the handle, the door was
-to be easily opened. Something pressed against it outside, something
-that would not yield by the fraction of an inch though I pushed with
-the strength of frenzy.
-
-I continued to push and to scream until I was seized with faintness;
-my arms sank to my side and my knees gave way. Oh! am I to be left to
-drown, locked up in this berth? I cried to myself, and I reeled to the
-arm-chair and sat down in it incapable of standing.
-
-The noise caused by the lashing of the sea just outside and the sounds
-of cargo rolling about in the hold overwhelmed all that I might else
-have heard sounding from above. Whilst I sat panting and half-swooning
-a man cried out at my door.
-
-‘Oh, help me! help me!’ I shrieked, and new strength coming to me with
-the sound of his voice, I staggered to my feet.
-
-‘Oh my God!’ cried the voice of Alphonse in French, ‘I cannot move
-this cask. Help! help!’
-
-Then I could hear the voice of Captain Regnier roaring in the distance
-as though he had put his head into the hatchway and was crying to his
-nephew through it.
-
-‘Oh, Alphonse, release me, save me, I cannot open the door!’ I shrieked.
-
-He answered in a voice of agony, but what he said I could not catch,
-and this was followed by a sound of furious wrestling outside. Another
-wild and frantic cry from Captain Regnier rang through the cabin, and
-now the words uttered at the top of his powerful voice reached me.
-They were, ‘If you do not come instantly we must leave you behind to
-perish.’ Again I caught a noise of desperate wrestling. It ceased.
-
-‘Oh, Alphonse, do not leave me!’ I screamed. ‘Do not leave me to be
-drowned in this dreadful berth!’ and I strained my ears but I heard
-nothing to tell me that the young Frenchman was outside; nevertheless I
-stood listening, supporting my tottering and swaying figure by holding
-to the handle of the door, for though I had heard his uncle call to him
-to hasten on deck or he would be left to perish, I could not believe
-that he would leave me to drown--that Alphonse would abandon me to a
-dreadful fate though all the others should quit the brig. I thought to
-myself, he has rushed on deck to remonstrate with Captain Regnier; he
-is now imploring his uncle and the others to descend and help him to
-remove the cask and liberate me, for I had heard him exclaim that the
-door was blocked by a cask, and I recollected that one immense cask
-or barrel had stood under the ladder which conducted to the deck; and
-remembering this I supposed that when the brig had violently leaned
-over, the cask had torn itself from its fastenings and been hurled
-by the slant of the deck against the door of my berth, where it lay
-jammed, immovably holding the door.
-
-I stood listening, I say, but the minutes passed and I heard
-nothing--nothing, I mean, that resembled a human voice or the movements
-of men; otherwise there was no lack of sounds--horrible, dismal,
-affrighting noises, a ceaseless thumping as of wreckage pounding
-against the sides of the brig, a muffled, most melancholy whistling
-and wailing of wind, a constant rattle and roar of cargo in the hold,
-a frequent shock of sea smiting the window of my cabin and filling
-the air with a sharp hissing and boiling, as of the foot of a great
-cataract.
-
-But when, after waiting and listening, I began to understand that
-Alphonse had fled with the rest, that there was nobody in the brig to
-come to my assistance, that I was imprisoned in a cell from which I
-could not break out and which might be slowly settling under water
-even as I stood, then was I maddened by an agony of fear and horror. I
-uttered shriek after shriek; I dashed at the door with my shoulder; I
-wept, and cowering to the chair sank upon it; then I shrieked again,
-and falling on my knees upon the chair I buried my face and lay
-motionless.
-
-I lay motionless, and after many minutes had passed I lifted up my head
-and gazed round the cabin, and a feeling of calmness suddenly settled
-upon my spirits. Whence came that feeling of calmness? Not surely from
-any faint hope that my life would yet be preserved, because I had not
-the least doubt that the vessel was sinking and that the final plunge
-must happen at the next moment or the next. The feeling of calmness
-came from the Spirit of God. From what other source could it proceed?
-But it never occurred to me that the Spirit of God was present in that
-little berth; it never occurred to me to pray to Him for succour, or,
-seeing that I was convinced I was a dying woman, to pray to Him to make
-my last struggles easy and to forgive me for my past, whatever it might
-hold--for hidden as that past was, it was human, and must therefore
-need forgiveness. It could not occur to me to pray, because I was
-without memory and my mind was unable to suggest the thought of God.
-But as though I had prayed and as though my prayer had been answered my
-mind grew tranquil.
-
-I arose and seated myself afresh in the chair, and clasping my hands
-and leaning back my head I fixed my eyes on the lamp for the comfort
-of the companionship of the little flame in it. My intelligence was
-horribly active, but the singular tranquillity within me was not to
-be disturbed by the most dreadful of the imaginations which arose. I
-remember that I calmly figured the moment when the brig would sink,
-and I imagined a noise of thunder as the water roared in through the
-hatchways; and then I had a fancy of the water taking a long while to
-drain into the stoutly-enclosed berth, and of my sitting and watching
-the flood slowly rising, washing in foam from side to side to the
-rolling of the brig, but steadily rising nevertheless. All this I
-figured, and many more frightful pictures passed before my inner
-vision. Yet I continued calm and sat waiting for my end, supported by a
-strength that had come to me without a prayer.
-
-The hours passed and the brig still lived, and still did I remain
-seated awaiting the moment that I believed inevitable. No stupor
-was upon me: I took heed of what was passing. I remarked that the
-brig rolled more gently, that the seas lashed my cabin windows less
-spitefully, that the dreary pounding as of wreckage smiting the side
-penetrated the fabric with a more softened note.
-
-At last, turning my eyes in the direction of the window, I observed
-that the gleaming ebony of it had changed into a faint green, and it
-glimmered now as it had glimmered on that morning when I first opened
-my eyes on board the brig. I knew that the storm had broken; but if the
-vessel had been deserted by her crew, what would daylight signify to
-me, who was locked up in a little berth, the sole living creature on
-board a wreck--as I _knew_ the brig to be--which passing vessels would
-glance at without visiting, and which could not much longer remain
-afloat?
-
-I watched the disk of glass change from dim green into clear yellow,
-and whilst I continued to gaze, I heard a sound resembling the voice of
-a man outside. Before I could make sure that it had been a human voice,
-I heard it again. It was the voice of a man calling to another. My
-strength returned to me as though I had been electrified, and springing
-to my feet I rushed to the door and beat upon it. I smote the door
-with all my strength with both hands clenched, and shrieked ‘Help!
-help! Save me! Release me!’ in notes preternaturally shrill with the
-maddening excitement of the tremendous hope and the desperate fears
-which possessed me. In a moment the door was thumped outside, and a man
-called out:
-
-‘All right! we’ll see to you--we’ll release you;’ and then I heard
-him shout in a roar that was even louder than the bull-like tones of
-Captain Regnier, ‘Wilkins, there’s a woman locked up here. For God’s
-sake bear a hand and jump on deck, and bring a couple of hands out of
-the boat to clear away this cask. Here’s a cask that’s gone adrift and
-has got slewed, and it is jammed betwixt the door and the ladder.’ The
-man then thumped again upon the door, and cried to me, ‘Are you alone?’
-
-‘Yes, I’m alone,’ I answered.
-
-‘Keep up your heart; we’ll soon have you out of it,’ he cried. ‘How
-long have you been locked up here? I cannot hear you. What! all night?
-Oh, my God! and a woman too, and alone!’
-
-A distant voice sounded in a sort of halloa.
-
-‘This way,’ cried the man outside my door. ‘Bear a hand, my lads;
-here’s a poor woman been locked up in this drowning brig all night.’
-
-This was followed by some hearty English heave-ho’s! and then a
-voice cried out, ‘Jump for a handspike, Bill!’ and several strange
-exclamations ensued, such as ‘Heave, and raise the dead!’ ‘All
-together, now!’ ‘Another heave and the waggon’s started!’
-
-I heard a crash--the rolling of some heavy body--a strong English
-oath--and the door flew open.
-
-Four men stood in the doorway in a group staring into the berth. One of
-them standing a little forward was a fine, tall, sailorly-looking young
-man of a ruddy complexion. He wore small whiskers, and was dressed
-plainly in a suit of pilot cloth with brass buttons, and around his
-naval cap were two thin bands of brass. The other three were ‘common
-sailors,’ as they are called, rough and sturdy fellows, any one of
-whom would have been a match for the whole of the four or five poor,
-half-starved French seamen who had formed the working part of the crew
-of the brig.
-
-The young man with the brass upon his cap stared at me for some
-moments, as though dumbfounded with astonishment and pity.
-
-‘Well, well!’ he cried, ‘to think that if I’d been content to merely
-sing out to know whether anyone was aboard, I should have overlooked
-you!’
-
-‘Regular French job it seems, to leave a poor lady locked up alone
-down here arter this fashion,’ exclaimed one of the sailors in a deep
-growling voice. ‘Couldn’t they have found time to have shoved that
-there cask out of the road of the door?’
-
-The excitement of desperate emotions that had rendered my voice
-shrill beyond recognition of my own hearing had passed. The strange
-tranquillity which had visited my spirits during the night and
-possessed them throughout the awful hours had returned to me. Without
-agitation I extended my hand to the young officer, as I took him to be,
-and said to him in a quiet voice:
-
-‘Take me away. I have been locked up here all night.’
-
-He took my hand and brought me into the living-room of the little brig.
-
-‘There is no hurry,’ said he; ‘this craft is going to make a good
-staunch derelict. I am here to find out if there is life to be saved.
-One of you men open the door of that berth there and overhaul it.’
-
-My knees trembled and I sat down. The young mate ran his eye over the
-cabin, and, as though directed by peculiar oceanic instinct, walked
-to the locker in which Captain Regnier had been wont to keep a little
-stock of spirits and wine for present use, lifted the lid of the
-locker, and took out a bottle which he uncorked and applied to his nose.
-
-‘This will do,’ said he. ‘Simmonds, I noticed the scuttle-butt abreast
-of the main hatchway. Bring the dipper full of water here.’
-
-This was done. The young officer mixed a glass of white spirits--gin
-or Hollands--and I drank. Then searching the locker afresh he found a
-biscuit which he handed to me. ‘This will serve you,’ he exclaimed,
-‘until we get you aboard, and then we will give you something warm and
-nourishing.’ I ate a little of the biscuit, but it was dry as saw-dust
-and I swallowed with difficulty.
-
-The three sailors stood at the table gazing at me, and their rough
-weather-darkened faces were full of sympathy and wonder. There was
-nothing to surprise me in their astonishment. My right brow and the
-upper part of my nose were still wrapped up with sticking plaister.
-Over my head was drawn the hood of mate Hénin’s cloak, and the skirts
-of this ample garment enveloped me. My snow-white hair was disordered,
-and tresses of it fell past my ears on to my shoulders. And then I
-might also suppose that the agony of the night had wrought in my
-countenance and made of my face even a stranger mask than that which
-had looked out upon me from the handglass which the young Frenchman
-had held before it.
-
-‘Can you tell me,’ asked the young officer, ‘how many people were in
-this brig last night?’
-
-I reflected and gave him the number.
-
-‘There is no doubt,’ said he, earnestly looking about him and making a
-step to peer into the berth which had been occupied by Alphonse, and
-which one of the sailors had already examined, ‘that all hands of the
-_men_ took the boat and made off after the collision, leaving you, the
-only woman aboard, to sink or swim.’
-
-‘One of the Frenchmen tried to save me,’ I answered; ‘he had a good
-heart and would not have abandoned me, but he could not remove the
-cask, and his uncle, the captain, called to him to make haste and come
-on deck or they would leave him behind.’
-
-‘There are some berths yonder, aren’t there?’ said he, pointing to the
-forward wall where the sliding door with the ring was.
-
-A seaman took the ring and slided the door open, and the three sailors
-passed through.
-
-‘Pray,’ said the young officer, examining me with curiosity, ‘might you
-have been the captain’s wife?’
-
-‘No.’
-
-He looked at my left hand. ‘It was not to be expected,’ he continued.
-‘I don’t love the French, but I believe they don’t make bad husbands.
-Were you a passenger in this vessel?’
-
-I fixed my eyes upon the deck.
-
-‘Where was the brig bound to, can you tell me?’
-
-‘To Toulon.’
-
-‘From where?’
-
-‘From Boulogne-sur-Mer.’
-
-He ran his eyes over me again but was interrupted in what he was about
-to say by the emergence of the three sailors.
-
-‘There’s nothin’ living to be seen,’ said one of them.
-
-‘What _is_ to be seen?’ said the young mate.
-
-‘Vy, sir, in both cabins nautical instruments, charts, vearing apparel,
-Vellington boots, bedding, and de likes of such things as them.’
-
-‘We have rummaged the brig,’ said the young officer; ‘there’s nothing
-left alive in her but this poor woman. Get the boat alongside, men.
-Are you strong enough,’ said he, turning to me, ‘to ascend those steps
-without aid?’
-
-‘I fear not,’ I answered.
-
-On this he put his arm around me and fairly carried me up the steps on
-to the deck.
-
-When I was on deck I looked round. Many large clouds floated under the
-sky, and their shadows darkened the face of the ocean; but in the east
-was a corner of misty sun with an atmosphere of rose betwixt it and
-the sea-line, and a delicate pink glittered on the brows of the swell
-as the dusky green folds rolled to the risen luminary. The brig was a
-complete wreck. I could not believe that I was on board the same vessel
-that had rescued me. There was a great rift in her deck high above the
-water, though she sometimes rolled the black chasm dangerously close to
-the sea. Many feet of her bulwarks on the left-hand side were smashed
-into splinters. Her top-masts were broken, and they were washing at her
-side, held by lengths of rope which resembled eels of inordinate length
-crawling overboard. The white boat that used to stand in the fore part
-of the deck was gone, and the sort of sentry-box in which the food
-had been cooked was beaten into pieces. The hull was indeed the most
-perfect figure of a wreck that the imagination could conceive.
-
-‘A pretty collision, certainly!’ said the young mate; ‘but these dirty
-old coasting foreigners never will show a light.’
-
-At the distance of about a quarter of a mile was a large ship. She was
-a far more beautiful vessel than the ship which had passed the brig,
-admirably graceful, swelling and swanlike as I had thought her. She was
-a long black ship, her sides as glossy as the hide of a well curried
-Arabian steed. So mirror-like was her length that the light that was
-upon the water trembled in cloudy flames in her sides. There was a
-radiant device of gold under the white bowsprit, and a line of gilt ran
-under the bulwarks from the radiant device to her stern, that likewise
-flamed with decorations in gilt. Her masts were white, and she had
-several white boats hanging at the extremities of curved iron bars at
-her sides. Some of the sails were pointed one way and some another,
-that one set might neutralise the impulse of the rest, and the noble
-and swelling and queenly ship lay without progress, softly leaning and
-gently bowing upon the swell whilst her spaces of canvas of a cream
-white softness showed like a large summer cloud against the shadowed
-sky of the horizon. She was close enough to enable me to distinguish a
-few figures moving about her, both in her fore and in her after parts.
-
-‘Oh! what is that ship?’ I cried eagerly, the instant I saw her.
-
-‘She is the _Deal Castle_,’ answered the young officer. ‘She is the
-vessel that was in collision with this brig last night. After the
-collision we hove to, for there was nothing to be seen, and therefore
-nothing to be done. It was blowing fresh. We burnt a flare and sent
-up rockets, but nothing came of them. If the Frenchmen after launching
-their boat were not drowned they must have been blown away to a
-distance that lost them the sight of our rockets. Probably they were
-picked up in the small hours. There was nothing to be seen of their
-boat at daybreak this morning from yonder mastheads.’
-
-He stepped to the side of the brig where the bulwarks were crushed,
-looked over, and then turning to me called out: ‘Come along, if you
-please.’
-
-I approached him, and looking down saw a large handsome white boat with
-five sailors in her, rising and falling at the side of the wreck.
-
-‘Stand by to catch hold of the lady,’ exclaimed the young officer, and
-he lifted me over the edge of the wreck into the powerful grasp of a
-couple of sailors who received and seated me. In a few moments he had
-placed himself at the helm, and the seamen were rowing the boat to the
-ship.
-
-I turned my eyes to view the receding brig. How miserable, how forlorn
-she looked! The great gap in her side resembled a frightful wound, and
-the _pouring_ look of the black rigging streaming overboard made the
-ropes look like her life-blood draining from her heart into the ocean.
-I thought of the little berth in the hinder part of her, of the lantern
-that might still be dimly burning, of the disk of glass changing with
-soul-killing slowness from ebony into dim green, and from dim green
-into the yellow of daylight, and a sick shudder ran through my frame
-and I averted my head, and for a little while held my eyes closed.
-
-‘I should think,’ said the young mate, clearly guessing what was
-passing in my mind, ‘that your escape will be the narrowest on record.’
-
-‘I shall remember that I owe my life to you,’ I answered, keeping my
-gaze downwards bent; for now the morning light had grown strong, and I
-could not bear that my face should be seen. I hung my head and raised
-my hand to the hood of the cloak, but the hood was as far forward as
-it would sit. However, the distance to be measured was short; the boat
-was swept along by the vigorous strokes of the seamen, and the young
-officer was too busy in manœuvring to run alongside the leaning and
-heaving ship to address or to heed me.
-
-I perceived a group of some eight or ten people standing at the open
-rail which protected the edge of the raised deck in the sternmost
-portion of the ship. Their gaze was intently fixed upon us as we
-approached. Some of them were ladies. Along the line of the ship’s
-bulwarks were many heads watching us. A tall man in a frock coat with
-brass buttons, detaching himself from the group in the after part,
-called to the young officer, who replied; but their speech was in
-the language of the sea, and I did not understand it. But even as
-we approached, a ladder was dropped over the ship’s side; the young
-officer mounted, and then extended his hands to assist me up the steps,
-and very quickly I was transferred from the boat on to the deck of the
-ship.
-
-I was left for some minutes alone; for, after the young mate had
-helped me to climb on board, he descended a ladder that conducted to
-the raised deck, on which were several ladies and gentlemen, and,
-touching his cap to the tall man in the uniform frock coat, he entered
-into conversation, both of them looking towards me as they talked.
-A large number of persons of both sexes--sixty or seventy in all, I
-dare say--thronged that part of the deck where I had entered the ship,
-and whilst I stood alone they gathered close about me, staring and
-whispering. They were of the emigrant class, the bulk of them rudely
-and poorly attired. A tawny-coloured woman, with braided black hair and
-eyes of an Egyptian duskiness, after staring at me awhile, exclaimed,
-‘Delicate Jesus, what a face! Shall I tell the sweet lady’s fortune?
-And, gorgeous angels! look how her head is bound up.’
-
-‘Hold yer tongue!’ cried a huge red-headed Irish woman, who had been
-surveying me with her arms akimbo. ‘Pace ye hay-then!’ she exclaimed,
-letting fall her arms and talking with her hands clasped in a posture
-of supplication, ‘can’t ye tell who she is? She’s a sister of mercy,
-and I know the order she belongs to. Sister, d’ye spake English? If
-you spake nothing but French, then give me your blessin’ in French.
-Pull out the blessed crucifix from the pocket in which you have hidden
-it that ye mightn’t lose it in the dreadful shipwreck, and bless me.
-I haven’t heard a prayer since I’ve been on board. Oh! sake the place
-for a howly minute only of his sainted riverence, Father Murphy, me
-confessor that I shall never see again--oh, that I shall never see
-again!--and bless me.’
-
-She spoke loudly, but in the most wailing voice that can be imagined,
-and when she ceased there was a sort of thrusting and shoving of a
-number of men and women to get near me, as though, poor souls! they
-desired to participate with the tall, red-haired virago in the prayer
-she had asked me to pronounce.
-
-But whilst I stood surveying the rough and eager faces with alarm, the
-young mate came from the upper deck and said, ‘Will you please step
-this way?’
-
-I followed him into the saloon--a long, narrow, brilliant interior with
-several tables ranged down the centre of it. A number of stewards were
-engaged in preparing the tables for breakfast. There were two or three
-skylights, like domes, overhead, and there were many mirrors and plated
-lamps, and globes in which gold and silver fish were swimming, and rows
-of pots containing ferns. It was like passing from a cottage into a
-castle to exchange the living room of the little French brig for the
-comfort and splendour of the saloon of this noble ship.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VII
-
-CAPTAIN FREDERICK LADMORE
-
-
-A respectable-looking, pale-faced woman, attired in black, stood at
-the head of a staircase that descended through a large hatch in the
-forward part of this saloon. The young officer went up to her and said,
-‘Mrs. Richards, we have just brought this poor lady off from the brig
-that was run down last night. The captain requests that you will take
-her below and make her comfortable. She has been locked up--think of
-it, Mrs. Richards--she has been locked up all night, without food or
-drink, in the berth of a craft that I dare say she supposed at any
-moment might sink under her feet. When you have thoroughly refreshed
-yourself,’ he exclaimed, addressing me, ‘the captain will be happy to
-see you.’
-
-‘I think you had better come to my berth,’ said the person whom the
-young mate had called Mrs. Richards.
-
-‘May I ask who you are?’ said I.
-
-‘I am the stewardess,’ she answered.
-
-She then conducted me down the stairs into what I afterwards learnt was
-called the steerage. It was a part of the ship that corresponded with
-the saloon, only it was not so broad, and there were but two tables
-in the central passage or corridor. As in the saloon so here, there
-were berths or sleeping compartments ranged on either hand, but these
-quarters compared with the saloon were gloomy, and I do not remember
-how daylight was obtained to illuminate the place; yet one could see
-fairly well even when fresh from the glare of the deck.
-
-The stewardess, opening a cabin door at the after end of the wide
-passage, bade me step in, and I found myself in a plain but comfortable
-little cabin, lighted by a large porthole, and furnished with two
-mahogany sleeping shelves one above the other. Upon a table were one or
-two account-books and a number of papers on files.
-
-‘Please to sit down, ma’m,’ said the stewardess, speaking kindly. ‘You
-look very weak and ill. Only fancy being locked up all night in that
-sinking boat! You are English?---- Yes, the third officer addressed
-you in English, and yet you may be French. Let me help you to take off
-that heavy cloak. It is a man’s cloak and a handsome one, I declare. I
-suppose you snatched at the first thing you could see to wrap yourself
-up in when our ship struck yours?’
-
-She paused in her speech to hang up the cloak, and then surveyed me
-for a few moments in silence. I particularly observed that she ran
-her eye with an expression of surprise over my figure, as though she
-could not reconcile my white hair and withered face with my youthful
-shape. You will not require me to tell you that I was dressed in the
-plain, tight-fitting serge costume that I had worn when I made my last
-excursion with the boatman Hitchens. It had not suffered much from
-exposure, nor from the rude wear to which it had been subjected. It
-looked fairly fresh, and at any time I should have thought it still a
-wearable, serviceable dress.
-
-‘You appear to have hurt your head very badly,’ said the stewardess.
-‘But the injury does not seem fresh--the plaister is surely older than
-last night?’
-
-‘Oh yes,’ I answered.
-
-‘But questioning you is not carrying out the captain’s orders, is it?’
-said she cheerfully. ‘Now what shall I get you? What could you fancy?
-Would you like a plate of chicken and ham and a fresh crisp roll hot
-from the oven and a cup of hot coffee?’
-
-I thanked her. She then pointed to a little fixed washstand in the
-corner, and told me to make use of her hair-brushes and whatever else I
-might require, and she then left me.
-
-A square looking-glass hung over the washstand. I approached and
-looked into it and then shrunk from it. Oh! I could not wonder that
-the people in this ship had stared when I came on board. My white
-hair that had been thinned by every application of the brush fell
-raggedly down my back and upon my shoulders. My sallow complexion was
-rendered peculiarly sickly by the pallor that had been put into it by
-my sufferings during the night. The plaister was no longer white,
-but soiled, and when for the second time I looked at my face, I again
-shrank back and the old blind cry of my heart, _Who am I?_ rose dumbly
-to my lips.
-
-I sank trembling into a chair, and the words ‘Oh God!’ broke from me.
-But the word ‘God’ was no more than the echo of a sound, whose meaning
-was eclipsed. Again and again, and yet again, in my agony I had uttered
-that holy Name, but with no more sense of the meaning than the babe has
-when its tiny lips frame the syllables ‘ma-ma.’
-
-After waiting a little I poured out some water and washed my hands and
-face, and I then brushed my hair, but I observed that not so many hairs
-came away in the bristles as heretofore. I seated myself again and
-looked around me, and with kindling interest at the little furniture
-in the stewardess’s berth. Near me hung a framed photograph of two
-children, a boy and a girl, and close by it hung another photograph of
-a respectably-dressed young woman in a bonnet, with an infant of a few
-months old on her knee. At these things I stared, and there followed
-an inward struggle that made me frown as I looked, and bite my lip and
-pluck at my dress with my fingers.
-
-There were other photographs of grown-up people. I glanced at them, and
-at a little row of books, and at a work-basket, and at similar trivial
-details. But my eyes went quickly back to the portraits of the two
-children and the little baby, and I was still gazing at them when the
-stewardess entered, bearing my breakfast.
-
-‘Who are those children?’ I asked her.
-
-‘My little nephew and niece,’ she answered, smiling and lighting up
-as she spoke, ‘and that is my only sister with her first-born on her
-lap. Oh, such a little cherub as it is! The sweetest baby! One, only
-one did I have. He was sweeter, yes, even sweeter than that child,’ she
-added, her gaze lingering upon the photograph whilst her voice fell
-and her face grew grave. ‘I lost him three months after my husband
-died----after he died and left me to ---- to ----. But here is your
-breakfast now. Make a good meal. I am sure you need it.’
-
-How much I needed it I did not know until I began to eat. I ate in
-silence, and the stewardess did not interrupt me by speech. She moved
-here and there, but all the while I was sensible that she eyed me
-furtively. When I had finished she said:
-
-‘Do you feel equal to seeing the captain? Or would you rather lie down
-and take some rest? You look as if you needed a long sleep.’
-
-‘Is the captain waiting to see me?’ I asked.
-
-She drew out her watch. ‘He wishes to see you after breakfast, and the
-passengers will assemble at breakfast in a few minutes. Unless you feel
-very exhausted it might be as well that you should see him before you
-lie down. He will want to know where you come from, so as to be able to
-send you to your friends at the first opportunity. And then again you
-will wish to see the doctor? You must have been badly hurt to need so
-many straps about your head.’
-
-‘I do not feel exhausted,’ I answered. ‘This meal has greatly
-strengthened and refreshed me. I will sit here, if you please, until
-the captain is ready to see me.’
-
-‘I shall not be able to sit with you,’ said the stewardess. ‘My hands
-are very full. We are not long from port, and some of my ladies have
-not yet overcome their sea-sickness. And then I have a sweet, poor
-young lady to see after. She is very ill of consumption. I fear she
-will not live. Her mother is taking her on a voyage round the world,
-but, like most people who are ill of consumption, the young lady has
-started too late. At least, I fear so. I have seen too many instances
-in my time not to fear so.’
-
-‘Will you tell me,’ said I, ‘where this ship is going to?’
-
-‘To Sydney,’ said she, pausing with her hand upon the door. She
-continued to watch me for a few moments, and then with a smile said,
-‘You know where Sydney is?’ I held my eyes bent downwards. ‘It is in
-Australia,’ said she; ‘in New South Wales. It is a beautiful city, and
-most people think that its harbour is the loveliest in the world.’
-
-She opened the door, gave me a friendly nod, and passed out.
-
-I remained seated, lost in such recent and slender thought as my mind
-could find to deal with. The ship was moving through the water. I could
-tell that by the tremble and hurry of light on the thick glass of the
-closed port. The movement was regular, buoyant, and wonderfully easy
-after the convulsive motions of the little brig. There was a clatter
-of crockery and subdued noise of talk outside in the somewhat darksome
-corridor, as I may call it, where some people--those no doubt who
-lodged in this part of the ship--were at breakfast. A baby was faintly
-crying in an adjacent cabin, but the compartments were stoutly divided,
-and every note reached the ear dimly. I sat thinking, and I thought of
-the terrible night I had passed, and of my abandonment by the young
-Frenchman and his companions, and also of the kind treatment I had met
-with on board the little French brig, and I thought of the days I had
-spent in her, and how the young Frenchman had said they had found me
-lying insensible, wounded, and bleeding in a boat with two masts; and,
-one thought leading to another, I suddenly arose and stepped to the
-looking-glass and gazed into it, and whilst I was staring at myself the
-door opened and the stewardess entered.
-
-‘I have just left the captain,’ said she, ‘and he will be glad to see
-you in his cabin if you are equal to the visit.’
-
-‘There are people about,’ I answered; ‘my face is--this plaister----’ I
-put my hand to my brow, at a loss to express myself. I was ashamed to
-be seen, yet I was not able to say so.
-
-‘You look nicely--oh, you look nicely!’ exclaimed the stewardess
-cordially. ‘Consider what you have gone through. How many would look
-so well after being wounded as you have, and then locked up in a cabin
-all night in a sinking ship? But you will not be seen. There is a
-staircase at the end of this steerage, and it opens close against the
-cabin door. Come, dear lady!’
-
-She was about to lead the way out when she stopped and said, ‘What name
-shall I give when I show you in?’
-
-‘I do not know,’ I answered.
-
-She stared and looked frightened.
-
-‘I have lost my memory,’ I said, and as I pronounced the words, I
-clasped my hands and bowed my head and sobbed.
-
-‘Ah, poor lady! God keep your heart! You have passed through a great
-deal surely,’ said the kindly creature instantly, with a woman’s
-sympathetic perception, witnessing the truth of my assurance and
-understanding my condition, and, tenderly taking my arm in her hand,
-she conducted me out of the berth.
-
-She led me to a narrow staircase at the end of the corridor. I heard
-the voice of people at breakfast at the tables behind me, but I held
-my head bowed and saw nothing. We mounted the staircase and emerged at
-the aftermost end of the brilliant saloon, that was filled with the hum
-and busy with the clinking and clattering noises of passengers talking
-and lingering at the breakfast table. The stewardess knocked on the
-cabin door, and without waiting for a reply opened it, and we entered.
-
-Two gentlemen arose from their chairs as I stepped in, and the
-stewardess, going up to one of them, said quickly but audibly, ‘She has
-lost her memory, sir,’ and so saying went out, giving me a smile as she
-passed.
-
-The cabin into which I had been introduced was large and cheerful.
-It was furnished as a private sitting-room. On a table were a number
-of mathematical instruments; the deck was handsomely carpeted, and
-but for the movement to be felt, and but for one or two points
-of sea equipment, such as a silver telescope in a bracket and a
-sleeping-place or bunk that closed as though it were a horizontal
-cupboard, it would have been hard to imagine in this fresh, shining,
-comfortably furnished room that you were upon the ocean.
-
-One of the gentlemen was the tall man who had been accosted by the
-young officer on our arrival. He was a very fine figure of a man
-indeed, above six feet tall and proportionately broad. His age was
-probably fifty, his complexion fresh, his eyes blue and kindly. There
-was but little of the look of the sailor, as we are taught by books to
-imagine him, in this man. With his grey whiskers, black-satin cravat,
-and dignified air, he might very well have passed for a well-to-do City
-banker or a country squire.
-
-His companion on the other hand was a short man with sandy hair
-streaked with grey, and a dry, shrewd Scotch face. He was dressed in
-a suit of tweed, and I recollect that his boots resembled a pair of
-shovels, so square-toed were they.
-
-‘I am happy,’ said the tall gentleman, in a slow, mild voice, after
-glancing at me with a mingled expression of pity and anxiety, ‘to have
-been the instrument of delivering you from a terrible fate.’ He placed
-a chair for me. ‘Pray be seated. My name is Ladmore--Captain Frederick
-Ladmore, and I am in command of this ship, the _Deal Castle_. This
-gentleman is Mr. McEwan, the ship’s surgeon.’
-
-‘Who strapped your forehead up, may I ask?’ said Mr. McEwan, in a
-strong accent incommunicable by the pen, and he came close to me and
-stared at the plaister.
-
-‘A young Frenchman who belonged to the vessel from which you rescued
-me,’ I answered.
-
-‘And a young ’un he must have been,’ said Mr. McEwan, with a smile
-which disclosed gums containing scarcely more than four front teeth.
-‘How did he lay those strips on, ma’m? With a trowel?’
-
-‘You seem to have been badly hurt,’ said Captain Ladmore
-compassionately.
-
-‘No, no, captain,’ interrupted Mr. McEwan, ‘never make too much of a
-woman’s troubles or complaints. There’s nothing to fret over unless the
-bridge of the nose be a trifle indented.’
-
-‘How did it happen?’ inquired the captain.
-
-‘I was found in an open boat, lying insensible, with the mast of the
-boat across my face.’
-
-‘Oh! you were found in an open boat. By whom?’ inquired the captain.
-
-‘By the people belonging to the French brig.’
-
-‘Now I understand,’ said the captain. ‘I thought you might have
-been--in fact, it puzzled me to know what you were doing on board that
-little craft. How long were you in the open boat?’
-
-‘I do not know.’
-
-‘What sort of boat was she?’
-
-‘I cannot remember.’
-
-‘But you surely remember how it happened that you were in that boat,
-and also how it happened that you were alone in her when rescued?’
-
-‘No, I do not remember,’ I answered, biting my lip, whilst I was
-sensible that my inward struggle and agitation was causing me to frown.
-
-The two gentlemen exchanged looks. ‘I need not inquire whether you
-are English,’ said the captain; ‘your accent assures me on that head.
-And forgive me for saying that no one could hear you speak without
-being satisfied as to your station in life. Let me see if I can help
-your memory: you are a lady who in all probability engaged a pleasure
-boat to take a cruise in, and you were venturesome enough to go alone.
-The boat proved too much for you and she ran away with you. Or, dirty
-weather came on and blew you out of sight of land.’
-
-I listened to him with my eyes fastened upon the deck, greedily
-devouring his speech; but all remained dark. I hearkened and I
-understood him, and I believed that it might be as he had said, but
-I could not say that it was so. No! no more indeed than had he been
-telling me the experience of another of whom I had never heard.
-
-‘In what part was your boat fallen in with?’ he asked after a pause.
-
-‘I cannot tell.’
-
-‘How long were you on board the brig?’
-
-This question I could answer. He rose and took a chart from a corner of
-the cabin, and then sat again with his finger upon the open chart.
-
-‘Concede an average of sixty miles a day to that brig,’ said he,
-addressing Mr. McEwan. ‘Her weather will have been ours, and we may
-take it that her average will not have exceeded sixty miles a day in
-the time during which the lady was aboard her.’ His lips moved as he
-calculated to himself, and then, passing his finger over the chart,
-he said: ‘The situation of the open boat when the French brig fell in
-with her would be about----’ and he indicated the place by stating the
-latitude and longitude of it.
-
-‘That’ll be clear of the Chops, captain,’ said Mr. McEwan, ‘and at
-_that_, though the lady may hail from England, she never can have
-sailed from that country.’
-
-‘It certainly would be a prodigious drift for a small boat,’ said the
-captain, looking at the chart and speaking in a musing way. ‘It should
-signify a week’s drift, unless the boat kept her stern to it with all
-sail set. Perhaps I do not allow enough for the brig’s average run.’
-
-‘The lady may have been blown from a French port,’ said Mr. McEwan.
-
-‘What French port?’ inquired the captain, moving the chart that the
-surgeon might see it.
-
-‘I have an idea!’ said Mr. McEwan; ‘why must the lady have been blown
-from a port at all? And why should the boat in which she was discovered
-_necessarily_ have been a pleasure-boat? Who’s to say that she is not
-the sole survivor of some disastrous shipwreck? In that case she may
-have been coming home from the other side of the world. There’s more
-happened to her, Captain Ladmore,’ said he, speaking with his eyes
-fixed upon me, ‘than is to be occasioned by misadventure during a
-pleasure cruise.’
-
-‘Cannot you describe the boat?’ said the captain to me.
-
-‘The Frenchman told me that she was an open boat and that she had two
-masts,’ I answered.
-
-‘Did they notice no more of her than that?’
-
-‘No. She was entangled with the rigging and drove along with the brig
-for a short distance. She broke away after I had been taken out of her,
-and the Frenchman let her go. It was a little before daybreak, and
-there was scarcely any light to see by.’
-
-‘You remember all that!’ exclaimed Mr. McEwan.
-
-‘I remember everything that the Frenchman told me,’ I answered; ‘and I
-can remember everything that has happened from the hour of my returning
-to consciousness on board the brig.’
-
-‘Would not a ship’s quarter-boat have two masts, captain?’ said Mr.
-McEwan. ‘Ye must know it is my theory that ’tis a case of shipwreck,
-and that this lady may be the only survivor. Who can tell?’
-
-‘I have known a ship’s long-boat with two masts,’ answered Captain
-Ladmore, ‘but I never heard of a quarter-boat so rigged.’
-
-‘Then the boat that the Frenchman fell in with may have been a
-long-boat,’ said the surgeon.
-
-‘I wish to find out all about you,’ said the captain gravely and
-quietly, glancing at my bare hands and then running his eyes over my
-dress, ‘that I may be able to send you home. A home you must have--but
-where? Cannot you tell me that it is in England?’
-
-I looked at him, and my swimming eyes sank. I could not speak.
-
-‘This is sad indeed,’ said he. ‘Did you ever hear of so complete a
-failure of memory, McEwan?’
-
-‘Oh yes,’ answered the surgeon. ‘I’ll show you fifty examples of utter
-failure in a book on the brain which I have in my cabin, and I can give
-you half a dozen instances at least out of my own experience. At the
-same time,’ he continued, speaking as though I were not present, ‘this
-case is peculiar and impressive. But I should regard it as hopeful
-on the whole because, ye see, there’s the capacity of recollecting
-everything on this side of whatever it may be that occasioned the loss.’
-
-‘Did the Frenchman find nothing in the boat?’ asked the captain gently.
-
-‘Nothing,’ I replied, ‘except a straw hat that was crushed by the fall
-of the mast, and stained by my wounds.’
-
-‘It was your hat?’
-
-‘They thought so,’ I answered.
-
-‘Nothing more?’ said he, ‘merely a straw hat? But then to be sure it
-was in the dark of the morning, and they were able to see nothing
-more.’
-
-He rose from his chair and took several turns about the cabin;
-meanwhile Mr. McEwan steadfastly regarded me. His air was one of
-professional curiosity. At last his scrutiny grew painful, but he did
-not relax it, though my uneasiness must have been clear to him.
-
-‘Can you give me any idea,’ said the captain, ‘of what became of the
-French crew?’
-
-‘I cannot,’ I replied.
-
-‘It was barbarous of them to leave you on board a vessel which they
-believed was sinking, or they would not have quitted her.’
-
-‘I was kindly treated by them,’ I answered. One of them, a young
-Frenchman, endeavoured to release me that I might gain the deck. But he
-could not move the cask that was jammed between my door and the steps.
-His uncle, the captain, threatened to leave him behind. The young man
-would have saved me could he have procured help.’
-
-‘That’s how it always is in a panic at sea,’ said the captain,
-addressing Mr. McEwan. ‘I can tell you exactly how it happened with
-those foreigners. When the brig was struck the seamen supposed that she
-would instantly founder. They launched the boat, probably their only
-boat.’
-
-‘They had but one boat,’ I said.
-
-‘Just so,’ exclaimed the captain; ‘they launched their only boat, and
-then as they lay alongside they shouted to their skipper that if he
-delayed they would leave him. No man has a chance with a cowardly crew
-at such a time. I dare say, had it depended upon the French captain
-and his nephew, you would have been brought on deck and taken into the
-boat. But well for you, poor lady, that they did not stay to release
-you! They blew away in the blackness, and in such a sea as was running
-it is fifty to one if the boat was not capsized.’
-
-‘Are there no initials upon your linen, ma’m?’ inquired the surgeon.
-
-I produced from my pocket the handkerchief which the young Frenchman
-had examined, and handed it to the surgeon, saying, ‘This was in my
-pocket when I was rescued, and it must therefore be mine. The letters
-“A. C.” are upon it. My under-linen is similarly marked.’
-
-He looked at the initials, and then passed the handkerchief to the
-captain.
-
-‘Do not the letters suggest your name to you?’ said the surgeon. I
-shook my head. ‘Would you know your name if I were to pronounce it,
-d’ye think?’
-
-‘I cannot say.’
-
-‘Have you run over any names for yourself?’
-
-‘I cannot think of any names to run over,’ said I.
-
-‘Ha!’ exclaimed the captain, ‘how great, how awful is the mystery of
-life, is the mystery of the mind!’ and as though overcome he stepped
-to the porthole and seemed to look out, keeping his back upon us. Mr.
-McEwan continued to scrutinise me.
-
-‘Captain,’ he suddenly exclaimed again, speaking as though I were deaf
-or absent, ‘the lady’s hair is snow white, d’ye mark? Her hair, as we
-see it, doesn’t correspond with her figure. She’s much younger than
-the colour of her hair. She is much younger than the look of her face,
-captain. She’s a young woman that has been suddenly aged--to the sight.
-I can see the youth of her lurking under her countenance, like comely
-lineaments under a veil. As she recovers strength and health, her bloom
-will return.’ He turned to me. ‘When you entered the boat in which you
-were found insensible, your hair, m’am, was black.’
-
-‘But all this is not to the point, McEwan,’ exclaimed the captain,
-coming from the porthole before which he had been standing with his
-back upon us. ‘The question is, where does this lady live? Has she
-friends in England. If so, it is my duty to send her home by the first
-ship. But your memory,’ said he to me, ‘may return in a day or two, and
-we are not acting kindly in detaining you from the rest which I am sure
-you need after such a night as you have endured.’
-
-He opened the door of his cabin, and called to one of the stewards to
-send Mrs. Richards to him.
-
-‘You’ll forgive me, ma’m,’ said Mr. McEwan, ‘but I observe that you
-have no rings. Now I’m sure you must have had rings on when you were
-found in the boat. Were they stolen from you, d’ye think?’
-
-I looked at my hands and answered, ‘I was without rings when my
-consciousness returned.’
-
-‘A pity!’ exclaimed the surgeon impatiently; ‘there might be the clue
-we seek in a ring of yours. Have ye no jewellery?’
-
-‘I have nothing but this purse,’ I answered, and I gave it to him.
-
-‘English money at all events, captain,’ he cried, emptying the contents
-into his hand. ‘But what does that tell? Merely that English money
-circulates everywhere.’
-
-The stewardess entered.
-
-‘Mrs. Richards,’ said Captain Ladmore, ‘you will please prepare a
-berth for this lady in the steerage. See that she is made perfectly
-comfortable, and the conveniences which she stands in need of that the
-ship can supply let her have.’
-
-‘I do not know how to thank you,’ I said in a broken voice.
-
-‘Not a word of thanks, if you please,’ he answered. ‘You have suffered
-sadly, and for no inconsiderable part of your suffering is this ship
-responsible. We must make you all the amends possible.’
-
-He motioned to the stewardess who opened the door.
-
-‘I’ll not worry you now with looking at your head and dressing
-it,’ said Mr. McEwan; ‘take some rest first. I’ll call in upon you
-by-and-by.’
-
-We passed into the brilliant saloon. The sun was now high, and his
-beams glittered gloriously upon the skylights, and were multiplied
-in a hundred sparkling prisms in the mirrors, lamps, and globes of
-fish. Through the windows of the skylight some of the sails of the
-ship were visible, and they rose swelling and towering and of a
-surf-like whiteness to the windy sky that lay in a hazy marble over
-the mastheads. The stewards were stripping the tables of the breakfast
-things, and at the forward end of the saloon stood a group of ladies
-conversing, and looking through a window on to the decks beyond, where
-a multitude of the emigrant or third-class passengers were assembled.
-
-I held my head bowed, for I was ashamed to be seen. The stewardess took
-me to her berth, and when I had entered it I sat down, and putting
-my hands to my heart I rocked myself and tried to weep, for my heart
-felt swollen as though it would burst, and my head felt full, and my
-breathing was difficult; but the tears would not flow. Many hours of
-anguish had I passed since consciousness had returned to me on board
-the brig, but more exquisite than all those hours of anguish put
-together was the agony my spirit underwent as I sat in the stewardess’s
-berth rocking myself. No light! no light! Oh, I had hoped for some
-faint illumination from the questions which had been asked me, from
-the sentences which the captain and the surgeon had exchanged about
-me. The blackness was as impenetrable as ever it had been. I groped
-with my inward vision over the thick dark curtain, but no glimmer of
-light crossed it, no fold stirred. The silence and the blackness were
-of the tomb. It was as though I had returned to life to find myself
-in a coffin, there to lie straining my eyes against the impenetrable
-darkness, and there, in the grave, to lie hearkening to the awful hush
-of death.
-
-‘Come, cheer up, dear,’ said the stewardess, putting her hand upon my
-shoulder. ‘Stay, I have something that will do you good,’ and going to
-a shelf she took down a little decanter of cherry-brandy and gave me a
-glassful.
-
-‘They told me things that may be true, and I do not know whether they
-are true or not,’ said I.
-
-‘What did they say, dear?’
-
-‘They said that I was young, and that my hair was black before I
-lost my memory; and they said that I might be the only survivor of a
-shipwreck, and that there was nothing--nothing--oh! _nothing_ to tell
-where I came from, where my home was, what my name is----!
-
-‘Now you must have patience, and you must keep up your courage,’ said
-the stewardess. ‘Wait till you see poor Miss Lee. You will not think
-that yours is the greatest or the only trouble in this world. _She_ is
-certainly dying, but you will not die, I hope. You will get strong, and
-then your memory will return, and you will go home, and the separation
-will not be long, you will find. It is not like dying. There is no
-return then,’ said she, glancing at the photograph of the little baby
-on the woman’s knee; ‘and besides,’ she continued, looking at my hand,
-‘whether you remember or not, you may be sure that you are not married,
-and, therefore, have no husband or children wondering what has become
-of you. You may, indeed, have a father and mother, and perhaps sisters,
-and others like that, but separation from _them_ is not like separation
-from husband and children. So, dear, think how much worse it might be,
-and go on hoping for the best. And now I am going to prepare a berth
-for you, and get a bath ready. There is an empty berth next door, and
-you shall have it. And you shall also have what you sadly need, a
-comforting change of linen.’
-
-She then left me.
-
-An hour later I was lying, greatly refreshed, in the berth which the
-good-hearted Mrs. Richards had got ready for me. A warm salt-water
-bath had taken all the aching out of my limbs. No restorative could
-have proved so life-giving. It soothed me--Oh! the embrace and
-enfoldment of the warm, green, sparkling brine was deliciously grateful
-beyond all power of words after the long days which I had passed in my
-clothes--in clothes which the rain had soaked through to the skin, and
-which had dried upon me. When I had bathed, I replaced my underclothing
-by some clean linen lent to me by the stewardess. And when, having
-entered my new berth, I had brushed my hair and refreshed my face with
-some lavender water which Mrs. Richards had placed with brushes and
-other toilet articles upon a little table--when, having done this, I
-got into my bunk, or sleeping-shelf, and found myself resting upon a
-hair mattress, with a bolster and pillow of down for my head, I felt
-as though I had been born into a new life, as though some base and
-heavy burden of sordid physical pain and distress had been taken from
-me. My mind, too, was resting. The inward weary wrestling had ceased
-for a time. I lay watching the lines of golden sunlight rippling upon a
-circle of bluish splendour cast by the large circular porthole upon the
-polished chestnut-coloured bulkhead near the door, until my eyes closed
-and I slumbered.
-
-
-
-
-CHAPTER VIII
-
-A KIND LITTLE WOMAN
-
-
-When I awoke my gaze was directed at the face of Mr. McEwan, who stood
-at the side of my bedplace looking at me. The cabin was full of strong
-daylight, but the atmosphere was tinctured with a faint rose, and had I
-at that moment given the matter a thought, I should have known that I
-had slept far into the afternoon.
-
-In spite of my eyes being open the ship’s surgeon continued to view me
-without any change of posture or alteration of countenance. He might
-have been waiting to make sure that I was conscious; he scrutinised
-me, nevertheless, as though his eyes were gimlets, with which he
-could pierce into my brain. He held a volume in his hand, but on his
-appearing to make up his mind that I was awake he put the book into the
-bunk that was above me, and said, ‘You sleep well.’
-
-‘I have slept well to-day,’ I answered; ‘I bathed and was much
-comforted before I lay down.’
-
-‘Do you ever dream?’ he asked.
-
-‘Never.’
-
-‘Are you sure?’
-
-‘My memory on this side of my recovery is good,’ I said; ‘and if I
-dreamt I should recollect my dreams. I have longed with passion to
-dream, because I have a fancy that my memory may return to me in a
-vision.’
-
-‘That is not unlikely,’ said he. He took the book from the upper bunk,
-drew a chair close to me, and seated himself.
-
-‘I have been looking at you in your sleep,’ said he, ‘and I am
-confirmed in my first opinion--you are a young woman. Your age is
-four- or five-and-twenty. You smiled shortly before you awoke, and
-your smile was like a light thrown upon your youth hidden behind your
-face. Some dream must have produced that smile--but the mere phantom of
-a phantom of a dream, too colourless and attenuated for your mind to
-recollect. And your hair! Has it been coming out of late?’
-
-‘I have lost a great quantity. It came out in handfuls, but it no
-longer falls as it did.’
-
-‘Your hair was black,’ said he, smiling, ‘and very abundant and fine.
-Before your calamity--whatever it might be--befell you you were a
-handsome young woman, excellently shaped, with dark, speaking eyes, and
-a noble growth of hair. Take my word for it. And now think. Do I give
-you any ideas?’
-
-I shut my eyes to think, and I thought and thought, but to no purpose.
-
-‘No matter,’ he exclaimed; ‘do not strain your mind. Take things
-perfectly easy. I have been reading in several volumes I possess on
-cases resembling yours; and here is a book,’ he continued, ‘with some
-examples, two of which you shall hear, that you may take heart.’
-
-He balanced a pair of gold glasses on his nose and read as follows,
-slowly and deliberately:--
-
-‘A young clergyman, when on the point of being married, suffered
-an injury of the head by which his understanding was entirely and
-permanently deranged. He lived in this condition till the age of
-eighty, and to the last talked of nothing but his approaching wedding,
-and expressed impatience of the arrival of the happy day.’
-
-‘What do you think of that?’ said the surgeon.
-
-I did not answer.
-
-‘Do you understand it?’ said he.
-
-‘I understand it,’ I replied, ‘but I do not see what it has to do with
-the memory.’
-
-‘There is too much memory in it,’ he exclaimed with a dry smile; ‘but
-you are right, and I’m very well satisfied that you should be able to
-reason. Now I will read you something that _does_ concern the memory,
-and you shall be consoled when you hear it;’ and he read aloud as
-follows:--
-
-‘On her recovery from the torpor she appeared to have forgotten nearly
-all her previous knowledge: everything seemed new to her, and she did
-not recognise a single individual, not even her nearest relatives. In
-her behaviour she was restless and inattentive, but very lively and
-cheerful: she was delighted with everything she saw and heard, and
-altogether resembled a child more than a grown person. At first it was
-scarcely possible to engage her in conversation: in place of answering
-a question she repeated it aloud in the same words in which it was put.
-At first she had very few words. She often made one word answer for
-all others which were in any way allied to it: thus, in place of _tea_
-she would ask for _juice_. She once or twice had dreams, which she
-afterwards related to her friends, and she seemed quite aware of the
-difference betwixt a dream and a reality.’
-
-‘Now mark this,’ continued the surgeon, looking at me over his glasses;
-and he then read:--
-
-‘After a time Mrs. H---- was able to return to her home in England,
-where she passed the rest of her life happily with her husband. She was
-in the habit of corresponding by letter with her friends at a distance,
-and lived on the most agreeable terms with her immediate neighbours, by
-whom she was held in much regard on account of her kindly nature and
-charitable work.’
-
-‘So you see,’ said Mr. McEwan, ‘that the poor thing got quite well.’
-
-‘Is that a good book?’ said I, looking at it.
-
-‘It is a first-rate book,’ he answered.
-
-‘But the woman’s memory was not utterly gone, as mine is.’
-
-‘She was far worse than you,’ said he. ‘Be of good cheer. Think of
-your brain as a theatre. The curtain has come down with a run, and
-the gentleman whose business it is to wind it up is drunk, or absent
-through illness. We’ll rout him out by-and-by, and the curtain will
-rise again. And now sit up, if you please, that I may look at your
-head.’
-
-He was abrupt and off-hand in his speech, with something of the wag
-in him, but already was I sensible that there was an abundance of
-good-nature and of kindly feeling underlying his manner. He carefully
-renewed the plaister and examined the injured brow, then dressed it
-with some salve and bandaged it with a tender hand. I asked him if I
-was disfigured.
-
-‘An excellent question,’ he explained; ‘a woman’s question. Go on
-asking every question that may occur to you; but do not strain your
-mind to recollect.’
-
-‘Am I disfigured?’ I asked.
-
-‘That is right,’ said he; ‘go on questioning me.’
-
-‘Let me look at the glass.’
-
-‘No; don’t you see that I am about to bandage you--so! Do not remove
-this bandage. There is something that needs to heal, and your young
-Frenchman’s sticking-plaister has not helped you.’
-
-The surgeon left me after saying that he would send me a powerful
-tonic, which I was to take so many times a day, and when he was gone I
-got out of the bunk, in which I had slept fully dressed, and going to
-the glass over the washstand looked into it. The face that gazed back
-upon me was no longer the forbidding, the almost repulsive countenance
-that I remembered. The removal of the darkened and bloodstained strips
-of sticking-plaister had made a wonderful difference. In their place
-was a snow-white bandage, skilfully fitted. It hid a portion of the
-right brow, and descended so as to conceal the bridge of the nose, but
-it left my right eye visible; and when I looked at my eyes I observed
-that they were no longer leaden and lustreless, but that, on the
-contrary, there was the light of life in them, and the dark pupils soft
-and liquid.
-
-This I knew by comparing my face with the face with which I had awoke
-to consciousness on board the brig; but I remembered no other face than
-_that_.
-
-I stood for some while staring in the glass, recalling the assurance
-of the surgeon that I was a woman of four- or five-and-twenty, and
-contrasting that notion with the belief Alphonse had expressed, that
-my age was forty-five, and I kept on saying to myself, _Who am I?_
-and silently repeating over and over again the letters A. C. until,
-recalling Mr. McEwan’s advice to me not to strain my brain, I broke
-away with a sudden horror, as of insanity, from the glass, and went to
-the cabin porthole.
-
-I could see very little of the sky and sea, but what I saw was
-beautiful with the colouring of the rich dark gold of sunset. I gazed
-almost directly west, and as much as I could behold of the heavens
-that way was a glowing and a throbbing crimson, barred with streaks of
-violet gloriously edged with ruby flames. The sea ran red as the sky;
-every ridged head of purple broke into rosy froth. In the heart of this
-little circle of western magnificence formed by the porthole was a ship
-with orange-coloured sails. I watched her, and thought of the young
-Frenchman, and wondered whether the crew of the brig had perished, as
-Captain Ladmore supposed, or whether they had been picked up during the
-darkness of the night by some vessel that had passed at too great a
-distance to be observed by the people of the _Deal Castle_.
-
-Whilst I stood thus looking and thinking, the door was opened by an
-under-steward to enable Mrs. Richards to enter with a tray, which she
-grasped with both hands.
-
-‘I thought,’ said she, smiling as she placed the tray full of good
-things upon the deck, ‘that you would rather have your tea here than at
-the table outside, and with your leave I will drink a cup of tea with
-you. Ah! now you look better. Yes, your eyes have cleared wonderfully;
-and I don’t see the same expression of pain in your face. And how much
-better that bandage looks than the ugly sticking-plaister.’
-
-She chatted thus whilst she gazed around, considering how she should
-dispose of the tray. At last she placed it in my bed, where it would
-be safe--where, at least, it would not slide, for there was a heave
-running from the sunset through the sea, and the ship regularly leaned
-upon it, but in motions so stately as scarcely to be noticeable. We
-seated ourselves by the side of the bed and ate and drank. She had
-brought cold fowl, and ham-and-tongue, and pressed beef, and fancy
-rolls of bread, all which, with other things, after the fare I had been
-used to on board the brig, were true dainties and delicacies to me, and
-particularly did I enjoy the tea with its dash of new milk.
-
-‘I had some trouble,’ said the stewardess, looking into the milk-jug,
-‘to coax this drop out of the steward. There is but one cow, and there
-are many demands upon poor Crummie. But I felt sure you would enjoy a
-cup of tea with milk in it.’
-
-She then asked me what Mr. McEwan had said, and I told her.
-
-‘He is a clever man, I believe,’ said she.
-
-‘Oh, if he would only give me back my memory!’ I exclaimed.
-
-‘I wonder what the captain means to do with you,’ said she.
-
-‘And I, too, wonder. Have I a home? Surely I must have a home
-somewhere? It cannot be that I am utterly alone in the world, though I
-am so now.’
-
-‘No, dear, you will not be alone. God will raise up friends for you
-until He gives you back your memory; and then----’
-
-‘But this ship is going on a long voyage,’ said I, ‘and if I remain in
-her she will be carrying me away from where my home may be.’
-
-‘Yes, but if your home is in England, this ship will convey you back
-there if you remain in her.’
-
-‘How long will it take the ship to sail to the place you spoke of?’
-
-‘Sydney. She is going to Sydney. Well, it may take her three months, or
-it may take her four months, to get there, and she will stop at Sydney
-for three months. We all hope--all of us, I mean, whose homes are in
-England--to be home by next August.’
-
-I turned her words over in my mind, but was unable to attach any
-meaning to what she said. I could not understand _time_--that is, I
-did not know what Mrs. Richards meant when she spoke of ‘next August.’
-But I would not question her; my incapacity made me feel ashamed, and
-exquisitely wretched at heart, and I asked no questions, lest she
-should divine that I did not comprehend her.
-
-There were people drinking tea at the tables outside. I heard the
-occasional cry of a baby, the voices of children, the murmur of men
-and women conversing. Mrs. Richards informed me that those people were
-second-class passengers, who inhabited this part of the ship.
-
-‘Are there many passengers in all?’ I asked.
-
-‘Oh yes, the ship is full of men and women,’ she replied.
-
-‘Where do they come from?’
-
-‘The ship sailed from London. The people joined her at the docks, or at
-Gravesend, from all parts of the kingdom.’
-
-‘Oh,’ cried I, clasping my hands, ‘if there were but a single person
-amongst the crowds on board--a single person who knew me, who would be
-able to pronounce my name and tell me where my home is--if, indeed, I
-have a home!’
-
-‘Well, who knows but there may be such a person?’ said the stewardess.
-‘Big as this world is, we are constantly running against friends or
-acquaintances. Everybody is asking after you. All my ladies, all the
-people I attend on, make inquiries after you every time I see them.
-There is a dear old lady on board, Mrs. Lee; she is the mother of the
-poor consumptive girl. Not half an hour ago, as I was passing through
-the saloon, Mrs. Lee left her chair and said to me, “Mrs. Richards, if
-there is anything that I or my daughter can do for the poor lady who
-was rescued this morning, I beg you will enable us to serve her. I fear
-she is without clothes,” said Mrs. Lee. “How could it be otherwise,
-indeed? Now my daughter and I have plenty of clothes, and the poor lady
-is welcome to whatever she wants.”’
-
-‘How good of her!’ I exclaimed. ‘Thank her, thank her for me, Mrs.
-Richards.’
-
-‘She is a dear old lady, and her daughter is the sweetest of girls.
-Oh dear! oh dear! that the hand of Death should be drawing closer and
-closer to steal away so much beauty and gentleness.’
-
-‘Is it known that--that----’
-
-‘That you have lost your memory?’
-
-I sank my head.
-
-‘Why, yes. News flies fast on board ship. And why should it not be
-known? Your not having your memory will explain a great deal.’
-
-‘What will it explain?’
-
-‘For instance, your having no name.’
-
-‘My initials are A. C.,’ said I, and I pronounced the letters several
-times over, and cried out, ‘What can they stand for?’
-
-‘But would you know your name if you saw it?’ said the stewardess.
-
-‘I cannot tell.’
-
-As I made this answer the door was quietly rapped. ‘Come in,’ said the
-stewardess, and the captain entered. The stewardess rose, and stood
-as though a royal personage had walked in, and then made a step to the
-door.
-
-‘Do not go away, Mrs. Richards,’ cried Captain Ladmore. ‘I am glad to
-see that you are carefully attending to the lady’--and he asked me if I
-felt better.
-
-I answered that I felt very much better, and that I did not know how
-to express the gratitude which all the kindness I had received and
-was receiving had filled my heart with. He pulled a chair and seated
-himself near me.
-
-‘I have been all day,’ said he with a grave smile, ‘considering what
-course to adopt as regards your disposal. I should very well know what
-to do if you could give me any hint as to where you come from.’ He
-paused, as though hoping I might now be able to give him such a hint.
-He then continued: ‘In my own mind I have little doubt that you are
-English, and that your home is in England. But I cannot be quite sure
-of this, and I should wish to be convinced before acting. At any hour,
-whether to-morrow or the following day--at any hour we may fall in
-with a ship bound to England whose captain might be willing to receive
-you and to land you. But then, unless your memory returns during the
-homeward run, what would a captain be able to do with you when he
-reached port? He would land you--yes; but humanity would not suffer him
-to let you leave his ship without your memory, without possessing a
-friend to go to, and, pardon me for adding, with only a few shillings
-in your pocket.’
-
-I hid my face and sobbed.
-
-‘Don’t take on, dear,’ said Mrs. Richards, gently clasping my wrist;
-‘wait a little till you hear what the captain has to say. Yours is a
-sorrowful, sad case, and it has to be thought over,’ and here her voice
-failed her.
-
-‘A bad disaster,’ continued the captain, ‘has brought you into my ship
-and placed you under my care. I am obliged to put your own situation
-and condition to you fairly and intelligibly. If your home is in
-England, I should not wish to keep you on board my ship and carry you
-to Australia. But your home may not be in England, and I dislike the
-thought of sending you to that country, where, for all I know, you may
-have no friends. When your memory returns we shall gather exactly how
-to act.’
-
-‘I do not seem able to think, I do not feel able to reason,’ I
-exclaimed, putting my hand to my forehead.
-
-‘Do not trouble to think or to reason either,’ said the stewardess;
-‘the captain will do it for you.’
-
-‘What,’ said Captain Ladmore, fixing his eyes upon Mrs. Richards, but
-talking as though he thought aloud--‘what should I be able to tell the
-shipmaster to whom I transferred this lady? I should have positively
-nothing whatever to tell him. He might hesitate to receive her. His
-reluctance would be justified. I myself should certainly hesitate to
-receive a shipwrecked lady under such circumstances. I should say to
-myself, When I arrive, whom shall I find to receive her? There might,
-indeed, be philanthropic institutions to take her in, but if I could
-not find such an institution, what should I do? I should have to take
-charge of her until I could place her somewhere. I might, indeed,
-advertise, send a letter to the newspapers, and trust by publishing her
-case to make her existence known to her friends. But then she may have
-no friends in England--and meanwhile? I have thought the matter over,’
-said he, addressing me, ‘and believe that I cannot do better than keep
-you on board, with a chance of your memory returning at any moment, and
-enabling me _then_ to take the first opportuning of sending you to your
-home, wherever it may be. What do you think?’
-
-‘I cannot think. Oh, if but the dimmest idea would visit my mind to
-help you and to help me! It would be dreadful,’ I said in a voice that
-was failing me, ‘to find myself on shore, in destitution, without
-friends, not knowing what to do, where to go. _That_ thought was a
-horror to me in the French brig, when the Frenchmen talked of landing
-me at Toulon and handing me over to the British Consul. I remember what
-they said: What would the British Consul do for me?’ And then I sprang
-from my chair and cried out, hysterically, ‘Oh, Captain Ladmore, what
-is to become of me? what is to become of me?’
-
-‘You are amongst friends. Do not take on so, dear,’ said the stewardess.
-
-‘It is my dreadful loneliness,’ I cried, speaking out of the old terror
-that was again upon me--the miserable terror that had possessed me
-again and again on board the Frenchman.
-
-‘All of us are alone,’ said the captain, in his deep, serious voice;
-‘we arrive and we depart in loneliness. God Himself is alone.’
-
-‘Think of that!’ said the stewardess.
-
-‘Whilst you are with us,’ said Captain Ladmore, ‘it is proper that
-you should be known by some name. Your initials are clearly A. C. Now
-suppose we call you Miss C.? By so terming you we shall be preserving
-as much of your real name as we can discover.’ He paused, and a moment
-later added, addressing the stewardess, ‘Do you suggest Miss C. or
-Mrs. C., Mrs. Richards?’
-
-‘Oh! Miss C., sir, undoubtedly,’ she answered.
-
-I lifted my head, and perceived the captain examining me as
-scrutinisingly as the western light that was now weak and fast waning
-would permit.
-
-‘Then Miss C.,’ said he, rising slowly, and smiling gravely as he
-pronounced the name, ‘you will consider yourself the guest of the ship
-_Deal Castle_ for the present. By-and-by your memory will return to
-you. We shall then learn all about you, and _then_, whatever steps I
-take must certainly result in restoring you to your friends; whereas to
-tranship you now---- But that is settled,’ he added, with a dignified
-motion of the hand.
-
-He pulled out his watch, held it to the porthole, and then bidding the
-stewardess see that I wanted for nothing, gave me a bow and went out.
-Mrs. Richards produced a box of matches from her pocket, and lighted a
-bracket lamp.
-
-‘What do you think of Captain Ladmore?’ she asked.
-
-‘He is the soul of goodness, Mrs. Richards.’
-
-‘He is, indeed. Who would suppose him to be a sea-captain? Sea-captains
-are thought to be a very rough body of men. Before I come upon the
-water as a stewardess I used to imagine all sea-captains as persons
-with red faces wrinkled like walnut-shells, and boozy eyes. They
-all had bandy legs, and used bad language. Since then I have met
-many sea-captains, and some of them are as I used to think they all
-were; but some are otherwise, and Captain Ladmore is one of them. On
-his return home two or three voyages ago he found his wife and only
-daughter dead. They had died while he was away. The blow was dreadful.
-He cannot forget it, they say. It changed his nature--it made him a
-sad, grave man, and thus he will always be. Well, now I must go and
-attend to my work.’
-
-I opened the door, and she passed out bearing the tray.
-
-The floating swing of the ship was so steady that I was able to walk
-about my cabin with comfort. I paced round and round it with my hands
-clasped behind me and my eyes fixed on the floor, thinking over what
-Captain Ladmore had said. On the whole I was comforted. It startled me,
-it shocked me, indeed, when I thought that unless my memory returned I
-was to be carried all the way to Australia. Not that I had any clear
-ideas as to where Australia was, or its distance from the ship, and,
-as I have before said, I was unable to grasp the meaning of time as
-conveyed by the stewardess’s information that the passage out would
-occupy three months or four months as it might be. But from what Mr.
-McEwan and Captain Ladmore and Mrs. Richards had said among them, I
-could in some manner understand that Sydney, whither the ship was
-bound, was an immense distance off, and though I had not the least idea
-where my home was--whether it was in England or in America, as the
-young Frenchman had suggested, or in that very continent of Australia
-to which the _Deal Castle_ was voyaging--yet the mere notion of being
-carried a vast distance, and for no other purpose than to give my
-memory time to revive, with the certainty, moreover, that if my memory
-had not returned to me at the end of the voyage I should be as lonely,
-miserable, and helpless as I now was: here were considerations, as I
-say, to startle and shock me.
-
-But on the whole I felt comforted. It was the prospect of being
-set ashore friendless at Toulon that had immeasurably added to my
-wretchedness whilst on board the Frenchman. But now that threatened
-state of hopelessness, of poverty, of homelessness, all to be
-exquisitely complicated by total mental blindness, was indefinitely
-postponed or removed. I had met with people who were taking pity on me,
-and amongst whom I might find friends. My health, too, would now be
-professionally watched. And then, again, if my home _were_ in England,
-this ship would certainly in time return to that country, and in the
-long weeks between it might be that my memory would be restored to me.
-Therefore, as I walked about in my cabin I felt on the whole comforted.
-
-Mrs. Richards brought me an armful of books, some of her own, and some
-from the ship’s little collection. She said, as she put the volumes
-down--it was about seven o’clock in the evening:--
-
-‘Do you feel dull? If so, there are many in the saloon who would be
-glad to meet you and converse with you.’
-
-‘No, I am not dull. My mind is much more tranquil than it was. I am
-thinking of last night. How glad I am to be here!’
-
-‘Would you like to receive a visit? There are many who would be
-delighted to visit you. Mrs. Lee will gladly come and sit with you if
-you feel strong enough for a chat.’
-
-‘I would rather remain quiet, Mrs. Richards. To-morrow I hope----
-Perhaps in a day or two the doctor will remove this bandage.’
-
-‘You must not think of your appearance,’ she said, smiling, ‘although
-it is a good sign. A little vanity is always a good sign in invalids. I
-would not give much for the life of an invalid woman who is without a
-touch of womanly conceit. But you are very well; you look very nicely.
-Do not think of your bandage,’ and with a kindly smile and nod she left
-me.
-
-When I went to bed I found myself sleepless. But sleeplessness I might
-have expected after my deep slumbers during the day. At nine o’clock
-Mrs. Richards had brought me some brandy-and-water and biscuits, and
-when she left me I went to bed, and lay listening to the people in the
-steerage outside. I gathered that some of them were playing at cards:
-there were frequent short exclamations, and now and again a noisy peal
-of laughter. The sea was smooth and the ship was going along quietly;
-no creaking, no sounds of straining vexed the quiet when a hush fell
-upon the players.
-
-At ten o’clock there was a tap upon my door, and the voice of a man
-bade me put my light out. I extinguished the lamp and returned to my
-bed. All was silent outside now; nothing was to be heard save a dim
-swarming noise of broken waters hurrying by, and at intervals the cry
-of a baby. For some time I listened to this cry, and it produced not
-the least effect upon me; but suddenly, on my hearing it more clearly,
-as though the door of the cabin in which the infant lay had been
-opened, a feeling of dreadful grief seized me--a feeling of dreadful
-loneliness. I sat up in my bed and racked my mind--I know not how else
-to express what I felt in my effort to _compel_ my mind to seek in the
-black void of memory for the reasons why that infant’s cry had raised
-in me so insufferable a sense of grief, so incommunicable an ache of
-loneliness.
-
-I grew calm and closed my eyes, but I could not sleep. Time passed,
-and still finding myself sleepless, I quitted my bed and went to the
-porthole, and perceived through the glass the bluish haze of moonlit
-darkness, with many brilliant stars in it, rhythmically sliding to
-the movements of the ship. I cannot sleep, I said to myself. I slept
-too deeply to-day to slumber now; I will go on deck. The fresh air
-will revive me. It is dreadful to be in this gloom, alone and bitterly
-wakeful, thinking of this time last night.
-
-So I put on my clothes--sheen enough flowed through the porthole to see
-by--and I took from a peg on the door the cloak in which I had been
-wrapped when I left the brig, and enveloped myself in it, pulling the
-hood over my head, and quietly stepped out. I remembered that there was
-a ladder at either end of the steerage, and that the deck was the more
-easily to be gained by the foremost ladder. A lamp burnt at one end of
-the steerage, and with the help of its rays I easily made my way to
-the foot of the steps. All was buried in deep silence. I mounted the
-steps and gained the foremost end of the saloon, and silently opening
-a door I passed out on to the quarterdeck, into the windy, moonlit,
-starry night.
-
-
-END OF THE FIRST VOLUME
-
-
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-were not changed.
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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. I (of 3), by 
-W. Clark Russell
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-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
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-Title: Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, Vol. I (of 3)
-
-Author: W. Clark Russell
-
-Release Date: October 6, 2020 [EBook #63385]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA, VOL 1 ***
-
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-Produced by Charlie Howard and the Online Distributed
-Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
-produced from images generously made available by The
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-</pre>
-
-
-<div class="center mw25"><div class="bbox">
-<p class="sans larger b1">NEW NOVELS.</p>
-
-<div class="hang">
-
-<p>THE DUCHESS OF POWYSLAND.  By <span class="smcap">Grant
-Allen</span>. 3 vols.</p>
-
-<p>CORINTHIA MARAZION.  By <span class="smcap">Cecil Griffith</span>.
-3 vols.</p>
-
-<p>A SONG OF SIXPENCE.  By <span class="smcap">Henry Murray</span>.
-1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>SANTA BARBARA, &amp;c.  By <span class="smcap">Ouida</span>. 1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>IN THE MIDST OF LIFE.  By <span class="smcap">Ambrose Bierce</span>.
-1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>TRACKED TO DOOM.  By <span class="smcap">Dick Donovan</span>. 1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>COLONEL STARBOTTLE’S CLIENT, AND SOME
-OTHER PEOPLE.  By <span class="smcap">Bret Harte</span>. 1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>ADVENTURES OF A FAIR REBEL.  By <span class="smcap">Matt.
-Crim</span>. 1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>IN A STEAMER CHAIR.  By <span class="smcap">Robert Barr</span>. 1 vol.</p>
-
-<p>THE FOSSICKER: a Romance of Mashonaland.  By
-<span class="smcap">Ernest Glanville</span>. 1 vol.</p>
-</div>
-
-<p class="p2">London: CHATTO &amp; WINDUS, 214 Piccadilly, W.</p>
-</div></div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<div class="newpage p4">
-<h1>ALONE<br />
-ON A WIDE WIDE SEA<br />
-
-<span class="small">VOL. I.</span>
-</h1>
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<div class="newpage p4 center wspace">
-<p class="small vspace">
-PRINTED BY<br />
-SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br />
-LONDON
-</p>
-
-<hr />
-
-<p class="newpage p4 xxlarge wspace">
-ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA</p>
-
-<p class="p2 smaller">BY</p>
-
-<p class="p1 larger">W. CLARK RUSSELL</p>
-
-<p class="p1 small vspace">AUTHOR OF<br />
-MY SHIPMATE LOUISE ‘THE ROMANCE OF JENNY HARLOWE’<br />
-ETC.</p>
-
-<div class="figcenter">
-  <img src="images/dec.jpg"  alt="decorative" />
-</div>
-
-<p class="p2 wspace">IN THREE VOLUMES</p>
-
-<p class="p1 larger">VOL. I.</p>
-
-<p class="p2 vspace wspace"><span class="bold">London</span><br />
-<span class="larger">CHATTO &amp; WINDUS, PICCADILLY</span><br />
-1892
-</p>
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak vspace" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS<br />
-<span class="xsmall">OF</span><br />
-<span class="smaller">THE FIRST VOLUME</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<table id="toc" summary="Contents">
-<tr class="small">
-  <td class="tdl in2" colspan="2">CHAPTER</td>
-  <td class="tdr">PAGE</td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">I.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Piertown</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">II.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Boating Trip</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">39</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">III.</td>
-  <td class="tdl">‘<span class="smcap">Who am I?</span>’</td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">76</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">IV.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Alphonse’s Conjectures</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">111</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">V.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">On Board ‘Notre Dame’</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">135</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">VI.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Terrible Night</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">193</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">VII.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Captain Frederick Ladmore</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">225</a></td>
-</tr>
-<tr>
-  <td class="tdr top">VIII.</td>
-  <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Kind Little Woman</span></td>
-  <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">262</a></td>
-</tr>
-</table>
-
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>1</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="ALONE_ON_A_WIDE_WIDE_SEA">ALONE ON A WIDE WIDE SEA</h2>
-</div>
-
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">PIERTOWN</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">In</span> the West of England stands a city surrounded
-by hills. Its streets are wide, its
-shops fine and plentiful, and there are many
-handsome and some stately terraces of houses
-in it. In the heart of the city a gem
-of ecclesiastical architecture rears its admirable
-tower, and this fine old structure is
-known everywhere as the Abbey Church.</p>
-
-<p>How am I to convey to one who has
-never beheld them the beauties of the scene
-when viewed from some commanding emi<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>2</span>nence—say
-on a rich autumn afternoon whilst
-the sun paints every object a tender red, and
-before the shadows have grown long in the
-valley? Orchards colour the landscape with
-the dyes of their fruit and leaves. White
-houses gleam amidst trees and tracts of vegetation.
-The violet shadow of a cloud floats
-slowly down some dark green distant slope.
-In the pastures cattle are feeding, and the
-noise of the barking of dogs ascends from
-the river-side. Rows and crescents of buildings
-hang in clusters upon the hills, blending
-with the various hues of the country and
-lending a grace as of nature’s own to the
-scene. The river flows with a red glitter in
-its breast past meadows and gardens and
-nestling cottages.</p>
-
-<p>Many roads more or less steep conduct to
-the several eminences, in the valley of which
-peacefully stands this western city. One of
-them in a somewhat gentle acclivity winds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>3</span>
-eastwards, and as the wayfarer proceeds
-along this road he passes through a long
-avenue of chestnuts, which in the heat of
-the summer cast a delicious shade upon the
-dust, and here the air is so pure that it
-acts upon the spirits like a cordial. The
-ocean is not very many miles distant, and
-you taste the saltness of its breath in the
-summer breeze as it blows down the hill-sides,
-bringing with it a hundred perfumes, and a
-hundred musical sounds from the orchards
-and the gardens.</p>
-
-<p>About a mile beyond this avenue of chestnuts
-there stood—I say there stood, but I do
-not doubt there still stands—a pretty house
-of a modern character, such as would be offered
-for letting or for selling as a ‘villa residence.’
-I will speak of it as of a thing that
-is past. It was situated on the edge of the
-hill; on one side the white road wound by
-it; on the other side its land of about one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>4</span>
-acre and a half sloped into meadows and
-pastures, and this wide space of fields sank
-treeless, defined by hedges, well stocked in
-the seasons with sheep and cows and other
-cattle, to the silver line of the river.</p>
-
-<p>Now have I brought you to my home, to
-the home in which I was living a little while
-before the strange and terrible experience
-that, with the help of another pen, I am
-about to relate befel me. And that you may
-thoroughly understand the story which I
-shall almost immediately enter upon, it is
-necessary that I should submit a little home
-picture to you.</p>
-
-<p>It was a Sunday afternoon early in the
-month of October in a year that is all too
-recent for the endurance of memory. A
-party of four, of which one was a little boy
-aged two, were seated at table drinking tea in
-the dining-room of the house, which stood a
-mile beyond the chestnut avenue. Upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>5</span>
-hearth-rug, where was stretched a soft white
-blanket, lay a baby of eight months old,
-tossing its fat pink legs and dragging at the
-tube of a feeding-bottle. A lady sat at the
-head of the table.</p>
-
-<p>This lady was in her twenty-sixth year—no
-one better knew the date of her birth than
-I. She was a handsome woman, and presently
-you will understand why I exhibit no reluctance
-in speaking of her beauty. I will be
-brief in my description of her, but I will invite
-your attention to a sketch that, in its
-relations to this tale, carries, as you will discover,
-a deeper significance than ordinarily
-accompanies the portraits of the heroes or
-heroines of romance.</p>
-
-<p>She was in her twenty-sixth year, I say.
-Her hair was dark, not black. I am unable
-to find a name for its peculiar shade. It
-was so abundant as to be inconvenient to its
-owner, whose character was somewhat im<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>6</span>patient,
-so that every morning’s wrestle with
-the long thick tresses was felt as a trouble
-and often as a cause of vexatious delay. Her
-eyebrows were thick and arched, and, as she
-wore her hair low, but a very little of her
-white well-shaped brow was to be seen. Her
-nose was after the Roman type, but not too
-large nor prominent, yet it gave her an air
-as though she held her head high, and it also
-communicated an expression of eagerness to
-the whole countenance. Her complexion was
-a delicate bloom, her mouth was small, the
-teeth very white and regular. She had a
-good figure, a little above the medium height
-of women, with a promise in her shape of
-stoutness when her years should have increased.
-She was simply dressed, and wore
-but little jewellery, no more than a thin
-watch-chain round her neck and a wedding-ring
-and two other rings on the same finger.</p>
-
-<p>Such was the lady in her twenty-sixth year<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>7</span>
-who sat at the head of the tea-table on that
-October Sunday afternoon.</p>
-
-<p>At her side was her little boy, two years
-old. He was a beautiful child with golden
-hair and dark blue eyes. He sat in a high
-child’s chair on his mother’s left, and whilst
-he waited for her to feed him he beat the
-table with a spoon.</p>
-
-<p>At the table on the right sat the husband
-of this lady, a man entering upon his thirty-first
-year. He was tall, thin, and fair, and
-wore small whiskers, and his eyes were a dark
-grey. Handsome he was not, but he had a
-well-bred air, and his face expressed a gentle
-and amiable nature.</p>
-
-<p>Confronting the lady at the head of the
-table was her twin sister. Nearly always
-between twins there is a strong family likeness.
-I have heard of twins who resembled
-each other so closely as to be mistaken one
-for the other unless they were together, when,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>8</span>
-to be sure, there must be some subtle difference
-to distinguish them. There was undoubtedly
-a family likeness between these two
-sisters, but it appeared rather in their smile
-and in certain small tricks of posture and of
-gesture, and in their walk and in the attitudes
-which they insensibly fell into when seated;
-in these things lay a family likeness rather
-than in their faces. Their voices did not in
-the least resemble each other’s. That of the
-lady who sat at the head of the table was
-somewhat high-pitched; her accents were
-delivered with impulse and energy, no matter
-how trivial might be the subject on which
-she discoursed. Her sister, on the other
-hand, had a sweet, low, musical voice; she
-pronounced her words with a charming note
-of plaintiveness, and she never spoke much
-at a time nor often. Her hair was not so
-plentiful as her sister’s; it was a light bright
-brown, with a gloss upon it like that of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span>
-shell of a horse-chestnut, but it had not the
-rich deep dye of that nut. She wore it with
-a simplicity that was infinitely becoming to
-her beauty. Beautiful she was, far more so
-than her sister; hers was a beauty far more
-tender and womanly than her sister’s; you
-thought of the meekness and the sweetness of
-the dove in looking at her, and the expression
-of her dark-brown eyes was dove-like. She
-was shorter than her sister, but equally well
-shaped, and she was the younger.</p>
-
-<p>These four sitting at table, and the
-little baby of eight months tossing its tiny
-toes shod with knitted shoes upon a blanket
-on the hearth-rug, formed the occupants of
-that parlour, and were the living details of
-the domestic picture that the curtain of the
-terrible drama of my life rises upon. The
-rays of the westering sun streamed upon the
-windows of the room, and the atmosphere was
-warm with crimson light. One window stood<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span>
-open, but the church bells had not yet begun
-to ring for evening service, and the peace of
-the English Sabbath lay upon the land outside:
-a peace scarcely disturbed by the distant
-barking of dogs, by the occasional moaning
-lowing of near cattle, and by the drowsy
-murmuring hum of bees and flies amongst the
-flowers under the windows.</p>
-
-<p>Who were these people, and what was
-their name? The name of the gentleman
-was John Campbell, and the lady seated at
-the head of the table was his wife, Agnes—Agnes
-Campbell, whose story she herself now
-relates, and the sweet sister at the foot of the
-table was Mary Hutchinson.</p>
-
-<p>I had been married at the time when my
-story opens a little above three years. My
-father was Colonel Hutchinson, of the Honourable
-East India Company’s service. He had
-distinguished himself in India in a period of
-terrible peril, but he had died before he could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span>
-reap the reward of his valour and his judgment.
-He died a poor man, his whole fortune
-amounting to no more than five thousand
-pounds; but the pension my mother drew,
-conjointly with the interest of my father’s
-little fortune, enabled her to live in tolerable
-comfort, and after my father’s death we took
-up our abode in the noble old city of Bath,
-where we dwelt happily, making many friends
-and enjoying a round of simple pleasures.</p>
-
-<p>Society in Bath is largely, almost wholly,
-composed of ladies; young men are scarce,
-and marriage at the best is but vaguely
-dreamed of, though hope is sufficiently constant
-to support the spirits.</p>
-
-<p>It chanced that Mary and I were invited
-one evening to play a round game of cards
-at the house of a friend. We went, expecting
-to find the company formed entirely of girls
-like ourselves, with perhaps one or two old
-fogeys. But soon after our arrival a gentle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span>man
-was shown into the room, and introduced
-to us as Mr. John Campbell. He was the
-only young man present; the other gentlemen
-were composed of a general, a colonel, and
-an admiral, whose united ages I afterwards
-calculated would have exactly amounted to
-two hundred years. I did not notice that
-Mr. Campbell paid me much attention that
-evening. Mary afterwards said he seldom
-had his eyes off me, but <em>that</em> I did not observe.
-On the contrary, I thought he looked
-very often and very admiringly at <em>her</em>.</p>
-
-<p>Well, he saw us to the door of our house,
-to use the homely phrase, and on the following
-afternoon he called upon us; but if it was
-love at first sight on his part, I cannot say
-that he illustrated his fervour by his behaviour.
-He was very polite, very kind, very
-attentive; seemed happy in my society, was
-a frequent visitor at our house, would steal
-an hour from business to find himself an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span>
-excuse to meet us in the gardens or park
-where we walked; but that was all.</p>
-
-<p>If I had been led by the reading of novels
-to suppose that a man looks love when he
-means love, I might have searched Mr. Campbell’s
-face in vain for any expression of deep-seated
-sentiment. Indeed, after three months,
-I could not have said that he was more in
-love with me than with my sister. But by the
-end of that time I must own that I was very
-much in love with him. And though so
-tenderly did I love my sister that I would
-gladly have relinquished him to her, had her
-love for him been as mine, yet to no other
-woman could I have parted with him without
-the belief—which to be sure I used to laugh
-at after I was married—that my heart would
-break if he did not make me his. But my
-heart was not to be broken because of his
-not loving me and making me his, for within
-six months from the date of our meeting we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span>
-were married, and I was the happiest girl in
-all England, and my sister as happy as I in
-my happiness.</p>
-
-<p>My husband was a solicitor. His practice
-in those days was small and would not have
-supported him even as a bachelor; but he
-had been the only son of a man who was able
-to leave him an income of several hundreds
-a year. We went abroad for a month, and
-I returned to find my poor mother dead.
-This loss left my sister without a relative in
-the world saving myself. It is seldom that
-this can be said of man or woman. To
-be without a relative in this complicated
-world of aunts and uncles, of nieces and
-nephews, and of cousins no matter how far
-removed, seems incredible. There may be
-plenty of people who are alone in the sense of
-not knowing who their relatives are, though
-they would find they had relations in plenty
-were they to seek them or were they to come<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span>
-into a fortune; but it is rare indeed to hear of
-anyone who out of his or her perfect knowledge
-of the family connections can positively
-assert, ‘I have not a relative in the world.’</p>
-
-<p>Yet thus it was with my sister and me
-when my mother died. But I will not delay
-my story to explain how this happened.
-Therefore, being alone in the world, my sister
-came to live with my husband and me. How
-greatly her making one of us added to my
-happiness I cannot express. I will not pretend
-that it did grieve me to leave my
-poor mother: no, nature works forwards;
-the fruit falls from the tree, the young bird
-flutters from its nest; it is nature’s law that
-a child should part from its parent, and deep
-as the sadness of separation may seem at the
-time, it will show but as a light-hearted grief
-at the best when looked back upon and contrasted
-with other sorrows of life.</p>
-
-<p>But it was a bitter pain to me to part with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span>
-my sister. We had grown up side by side;
-we were as blossoms upon one stalk, and the
-sap of the single stalk fed the two flowers.</p>
-
-<p>And now as we sat drinking tea in the
-parlour of our house on that fine October
-Sunday afternoon, our conversation was as
-homely as the picture we made. Nevertheless
-it involved a topic of considerable interest
-to us. My little boy Johnny had been looking
-somewhat pale, and his appetite was not
-as I, his mother, considered it should be.
-The summer had been a very hot one, and
-when it is even moderately warm in most
-parts of England, it is commonly very broiling
-indeed in our city of the Abbey Church,
-where there are tall hills to protect the population
-from the breeze, where the roads are
-steep, glaring, and dusty, and where the width
-of many of the streets is quite out of proportion
-to the stature of the houses, so that you
-do not know where to look for shade.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span></p>
-
-<p>My husband’s business would not suffer
-him to leave home until the early autumn,
-and he could not prevail upon me to go away
-without him; but now he was able to take
-a holiday for a month, and the doctor had
-recommended the seaside for little Johnny
-and the baby, and as we sat drinking tea we
-talked of the best place to go to.</p>
-
-<p>‘It does not matter to me what part of
-the coast you choose,’ said my husband. ‘I
-only stipulate that you shall not select a town
-that is confidently recommended by the
-whole of the medical faculty, and whose
-medical officer every year sends to the
-newspapers a statement that the death-rate
-is the lowest in England, and that it is
-the healthiest seaside resort in the United
-Kingdom.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Then you shut every seaside town against
-us,’ said my sister, ‘for every seaside town is
-the healthiest in England.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span></p>
-
-<p>I named Margate; my husband made a
-grimace.</p>
-
-<p>‘No,’ he exclaimed, ‘I should not like to
-return to Bath and say we have been to
-Margate. It was only the other day I heard
-General Cramp swear that Margate was not
-the vulgarest place in all England, oh no! but
-the vulgarest place in all the world.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Its air is very fine,’ said I, ‘and it is fine
-air that we want.’ And here I looked at
-Johnny. ‘What does it matter to us what
-sort of people go to Margate, if its air is
-good?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I will not go to Margate,’ said my husband.</p>
-
-<p>My sister named two or three towns on
-the coast.</p>
-
-<p>‘Let us,’ said my husband, ‘go to some
-place where there is no hotel and where there
-is no pier.’</p>
-
-<p>‘And where there is no circulating library,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span>
-cried I, ‘and where there are two miles of
-mud when the water is out.’</p>
-
-<p>And then I named several towns as my
-sister had, but my suggestions were not regarded.
-At this point baby began to roar,
-and my husband rose to ring for the nurse,
-but it was nurse’s ‘Sunday out,’ and Mary
-and I were taking her place. Mary picked
-baby up off the blanket, and holding its cheek
-to hers, sung softly to it in her low sweet
-voice. The darling was instantly silent. The
-effect of my sister’s plaintive melodious voice
-upon fretful children was magical. I remember
-once calling with her upon a lady who
-wished that we should see her baby. The
-baby was brought into the room, and the
-moment it saw us it began to yell. My sister
-stepped up to it as it sat on the nurse’s arm,
-and looking at it in the face with a smile
-began to sing, and the infant, silencing its
-cries, stared back at her with its mouth wide<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span>
-open in the very posture of a scream, but as
-silent as though it had been a doll. When
-she ceased to sing and turned from it, it
-roared again, and again she silenced it by
-singing.</p>
-
-<p>My baby lay hushed in her arms, and the
-sweet eyes of Mary looked at us over the
-little fat cheek that she nestled to her throat,
-and we continued to discourse upon the best
-place to go to.</p>
-
-<p>My husband named a small seaside town,
-and I could see by the expression of his face
-he meant that we should go there. It was
-many years since he had visited it, but he
-recollected and described the beauties of the
-scenery of the coast with enthusiasm. It was
-on the Bristol Channel, at no very considerable
-distance from the city in which we dwelt,
-and he said he wished to go there because,
-should there come a call upon him from the
-office, he would be able to make the double<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span>
-journey, with plenty of leisure between for
-all he might have to do, in a day, computing
-that day from eight till midnight.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh! it is a beautiful romantic spot,
-Agnes,’ said he. ‘Its sands, when the water
-is out, are as firm as this floor. It has high,
-dark cliffs, magnificently bold and rugged,
-and when the breaker bursts upon the sand,
-the cliffs echo its voice, and you seem to hear
-the note of an approaching tempest.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But it is a cheerful place, John? Cliffs
-and sands are very well, but in a month one
-wearies of cliffs and sands, and in a month
-again how many days of wet will there be?’</p>
-
-<p>‘It is cheerful—very,’ said my husband.
-‘Its cheerfulness is inborn, like good-nature
-in a man. It owes nothing of its brightness
-to excursionists, to steamboats, to Punch and
-Judy, and to German bands. It has three
-good streets and a number of clean lodging-houses.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Has it a pier and a hotel?’ asked Mary.</p>
-
-<p>‘It has what the cockneys call a jetty,’
-answered my husband. ‘I should prefer to
-term it a pier. What is the difference between
-a pier and a jetty? This jetty is short,
-massive, very richly tarred, and just the sort
-of jetty for Johnny to fall over the edge of
-if he is not looked after. There is a wooden
-canopy at the extremity of it under which,
-Mary, you will be able to sit and read your
-favourite poet without risk of being intruded
-upon. The verses of your favourite poet
-will be set to music by the rippling of the
-water among the massive supports of the
-pier, and you will have nothing to do but to
-be happy.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Are there any boats?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘Many capital boats,’ he answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Sailing boats?’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Sailing boats and rowing boats,’ said
-he.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I shall often want to go out sailing,’
-said I. ‘What is more heavenly than sailing?’</p>
-
-<p>‘You will have to go alone so far as I am
-concerned, Agnes,’ said Mary.</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, but John will often accompany me,’
-said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Not very often,’ he exclaimed. ‘Had I been
-a lover of sailing I should have gone to sea,
-instead of which I am a solicitor, and I spell
-sails with an “e” and not with an “i.” Well,
-is it settled?’ he continued, drawing a pipe
-case from his pocket and extracting the pipe
-from it. ‘I believe there will be time for
-half a pipe of tobacco before we go to
-church.’</p>
-
-<p>But the nurse being out I could not go to
-church, and my sister would not leave me
-alone with the children, and my husband, instead
-of filling half a pipe filled a whole one,
-and took no heed of the church bells when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span>
-their happy peaceful chimes floated through
-the open window. Indeed it was <em>not</em> settled;
-the subject was too interesting to be swiftly
-dismissed, yet my husband had his way in the
-end, as usually happened, for before evening
-service was over we had arranged to spend a
-month at the little town whose praises he had
-sung so poetically.</p>
-
-<p>Next day he made a journey to the shores
-of the Bristol Channel to seek for lodgings.
-But the accommodation he required was not
-to be found in apartments, and when he returned
-he told me that he had taken a house
-standing near the edge of the cliff in a garden
-of its own. A few days later our little family
-proceeded to the sea coast. We left two
-servants behind us to look after the house,
-and the only domestic we took with us was
-the nurse, a person of about my own age,
-who had been with me at this time about
-six weeks, having replaced an excellent, trust<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span>worthy
-young woman who had left me to
-get married.</p>
-
-<p>I will call the little place from which
-dates the story of my terrific experiences,
-Piertown.</p>
-
-<p>What with having to change here, and to
-get out there, and to wait somewhere else,
-the journey was a tedious one, and when we
-arrived it was raining hard and blowing very
-strong, and I remember as we drove from the
-railway station catching sight through the
-streaming window glass of the white waves of
-the sea rushing like bodies of snow out of
-the pale haze of the rain and the spray, and
-I also remember that I heard a strange low
-voice of thunder in the air, made by the huge
-breakers as they tumbled in hills of water
-upon the beach and rushed backwards into
-the sea in sheets of froth.</p>
-
-<p>It was so cold that we were very glad to
-find a cheerful fire in the parlour, that was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span>
-rendered yet more hospitable to the sight by
-the table being equipped for a two o’clock
-dinner. The house was small, but very
-strongly built, with thick plate-glass windows
-in the lower rooms, against which the wind
-and the rain were hissing as though an engine
-were letting off steam close by. A couple of
-maid-servants had been left in the house.
-Never could I have imagined that servants
-would be willing to sleep as those two did in
-one small bed, in a tiny garret where all the
-light they had fell through a skylight window
-about the size of a book. But I have noticed
-in the country, that is to say, in rural parts
-and quiet towns such as Piertown, servants
-are grateful and dutiful for such food and
-lodging as would cause them to be incessantly
-grumbling and changing their places in cities
-like Bath.</p>
-
-<p>Baby and little Johnny were taken upstairs
-by the nurse, and my husband and Mary and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span>
-I went to the window and stood gazing at the
-sea. We had a very clear view of it. The
-house stood within a few yards of the edge
-of the cliff, and the extremity of the garden
-between was bounded by a dwarf wall of
-flint which left the prospect open.</p>
-
-<p>‘What do you think of that sight,
-Agnes?’ said my husband. ‘Would sailing
-be heavenly to-day, do you think?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Never more heavenly if one could feel
-safe,’ said I. ‘How swiftly a boat would rush
-before such a wind as this! Hark to the
-roaring in the chimney! It makes me feel
-as if I were in the cabin of a ship. It is
-delightful. It is like being at sea and enjoying
-the full spirit of it without suffering the
-horrors of being tossed and bruised, and
-without any chance of being upset and shipwrecked.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You should have married a sailor,’ said
-my husband dryly.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span></p>
-
-<p>‘What have you been reading lately,
-Agnes, to put this sudden love of the sea into
-your head?’ said Mary. ‘You used not to
-care for the water.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I have been reading nothing to make me
-love the sea,’ I answered; ‘but when I look at
-such a sight as that I feel that if I were a
-man I should consider that the earth was
-formed of something more than land, and
-that the best part of it is not where trees
-grow and where houses are built.’</p>
-
-<p>My husband laughed. ‘One hour of <em>that</em>
-would cure you,’ said he pointing. ‘One
-<em>hour</em>, indeed! Ten minutes of it. I tell you
-what—there is a very heavy sea running to-day.
-It <em>must</em> be so, for we are high-perched
-here, and look how defined are the shapes of
-the waves as they come storming out of the
-mist towards the land.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I wish a ship would pass,’ said I. ‘I
-should like to see her roll and plunge.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span></p>
-
-<p>And for some time after my husband and
-Mary had withdrawn from the window I
-stood gazing at the bleared and throbbing
-scene of ocean, hoping and longing to see a
-ship go by, little suspecting that my wishes
-were as wicked as though they were those of
-a wrecker, for had any ship been close enough
-in to the coast to enable me to see her amid
-the thickness that was upon the face of the
-streaming and rushing waters, nothing could
-have saved her from being driven ashore,
-where in all probability her crew would have
-perished.</p>
-
-<p>But in the afternoon the weather cleared;
-it continued to blow a strong wind right upon
-the land, but the sky opened into many blue
-lakes, and changed into a magnificent picture
-of immense bodies of stately sailing cream-coloured
-cloud, upon which the setting sun
-shone, colouring their skirts with a dark rich
-gold, and the horizon expanded to as far as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span>
-the eye could pierce, with one staggering
-and leaning shaft of white upon the very rim
-of the sea.</p>
-
-<p>‘Let us go and look at the town,’ said my
-husband; and Mary and I put on our hats
-and jackets and the three of us sallied
-forth.</p>
-
-<p>We had to walk some distance to reach
-the little town, and when we arrived there
-was not very much to see. The three streets
-were neither spacious nor splendid; on the
-contrary, they struck me as rather mean and
-weather-beaten. But then people do not
-leave cities in order to view the shops and
-streets of little seaside towns. Piertown lay
-in a sort of chasm. It was as though a party
-of fishermen in ancient days, wandering along
-the coast in search of a good site for the
-erection of their cottages, and falling in with
-this great split in the cliff, as though an earthquake
-had not long before happened, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span>
-exclaimed, ‘Let us settle here.’ There was a
-peculiar smell of salt in the streets, and the
-roadways and pavements presented a sort of
-faint sparkling surface, as though a great deal
-of brine had fallen upon them and dried up.
-There was also a smell of kippered herring in
-the strong wind, and it seemed to proceed
-from every shop door that we passed.</p>
-
-<p>Very few people were to be seen. We
-were much stared at by the shopmen through
-their windows, and here and there a little
-knot of lounging men dressed as boatmen
-hushed their hoarse voices to intently gaze
-at us.</p>
-
-<p>‘This is what I like,’ said my husband.
-‘Here is all the privacy that we could desire,
-and the most delightful primitiveness also. A
-professional man when he takes a holiday
-ought to give crowded places a very wide
-berth, and put himself as close to nature—to
-nature, rugged, homely and roaring, after this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span>
-pattern,’ said he with a sweep of his hand,
-‘as his requirements of eating and drinking
-and sleeping will permit.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It seems a very dull place,’ said I when,
-having reached the top of one of the three
-steep streets, we turned to retrace our steps.
-‘If the weather does not allow me to have
-plenty of boating I shall soon wish myself
-home again.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You will not find a circulating library
-here,’ said Mary, looking around her. ‘I
-should not suppose that many people belonging
-to Piertown are able to read.’</p>
-
-<p>‘The place is made up of grocers’ shops,’
-said my husband. ‘What a queer smell of
-bloaters!’</p>
-
-<p>I amused myself by counting no less than
-five grocers’ shops in one street, and I did not
-see a single person resembling a customer
-in any one of them. I pulled my husband’s
-arm to stop him opposite a shop in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span>
-whose windows I believed I saw three men
-hanging by the neck. They proved to be
-complete suits of oilskins, each surmounted
-by one of those nautical helmets called
-sou’-westers, and at a little distance, as they
-dangled in the twilight within the windows,
-they exactly resembled three mariners who
-had committed suicide.</p>
-
-<p>We now walked down to the pier, and
-there the great plain of the ocean stretched
-before us without the dimmest break of land
-anywhere along its confines, and the white
-surf boiled within the toss of a pebble from
-us. The pier projected from a short esplanade;
-along this esplanade ran a terrace of
-mean stunted structures, eight in all; and my
-husband, after looking and counting, exclaimed:
-‘Five of them are public-houses.
-Yes! this is the seaside.’</p>
-
-<p>The pier forked straight out for a short
-distance, then rounded sharply to the right,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span>
-thus forming a little harbour, in the shelter of
-which lay a cluster of boats of several kinds.
-The massive piles and supports of the pier
-broke the weight of the seas, which rushed
-hissing white as milk amongst the black
-timbers; but the water within was considerably
-agitated nevertheless, and the boats
-hopped and plunged and jumped and rubbed
-their sides one against another, straining at
-the ropes which held them, as though they
-were timid living creatures like sheep, terrified
-by the noise and appearance of the waters,
-and desperately struggling at their tethers in
-their desire to get on shore.</p>
-
-<p>We stood looking, inhaling deeply and
-with delight the salt sweetness of the strong
-ocean breeze. The land soared on either
-hand from the little town, and ran away in
-dark masses of towering cliff, and far as the
-eye could follow went the white line of the
-surf, with a broad platform of grey hard sand<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span>
-betwixt it and the base of the cliff. Here
-and there in one or another of the public-house
-windows glimmered a face whose eyes
-surveyed us steadfastly. We might make
-sure by the manner in which we were looked
-at, that Piertown was not greatly troubled by
-visitors.</p>
-
-<p>There was a wooden post near the entrance
-of the pier, and upon it leaned the
-figure of a man clad in trousers of a stuff
-resembling blanket, a rusty coat buttoned up
-to his neck, around which was a large shawl,
-and upon his head he wore a yellow sou’-wester.
-He might have been carved out of
-wood, so motionless was his posture and so
-intent his gaze at the horizon, where there
-was nothing to be seen but water, though I
-strained my sight in the hope of perceiving
-the object which appeared to fascinate him.
-A short clay pipe, of the colour of soot, projected
-from his lips. He seemed to hold it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span>
-thus as one might wear an ornament, for no
-smoke issued from it.</p>
-
-<p>We drew close, and my husband said:
-‘Good afternoon.’</p>
-
-<p>The man looked slowly round, surveyed
-us one after another, then readjusting himself
-upon his post and fastening his eyes afresh
-upon the horizon, he responded in a deep
-voice: ‘Good arternoon.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Is there anything in sight?’ said my
-husband.</p>
-
-<p>‘No,’ answered the man.</p>
-
-<p>‘Then what are you looking at?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I ain’t looking,’ answered the man; ‘I’m
-a-thinking.’</p>
-
-<p>‘And what are you thinking of?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Why,’ said the man, ‘I’m a-thinking
-that I han’t tasted a drop o’ beer for two
-days.’</p>
-
-<p>‘This, indeed, is being at the seaside,’ said
-my husband cheerfully, and putting his hand<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span>
-in his pocket he produced a sixpence, which
-he gave to the man.</p>
-
-<p>The effect was remarkable; the man instantly
-stood upright, and went round to the
-other side of the post to lean over it, so that
-he might confront us. And it was remarkable
-in other ways; for no sooner had my husband
-given the man the sixpence than the doors
-of two or three of the public-houses opposite
-opened, and several figures dressed like this
-man emerged and approached us very slowly,
-halting often and looking much at the weather,
-and then approaching us by another step, and
-all in a manner as though they were acting
-unconsciously, and without the least idea
-whatever that my husband had given the
-man some money.</p>
-
-<p>He was a man of about forty-five or fifty
-years of age, with a very honest cast of countenance,
-the expression of which slightly
-inclined towards surliness. You will wonder<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span>
-that I should take such particular notice of a
-mere lounging boatman; and yet this same
-plain, common-looking sailor, was to become
-the most memorable of all the persons I had
-ever met with in my life.</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">A BOATING TRIP</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">It</span> was not yet evening, but the sun was
-very low in the west on our right hand;
-a large moon would be rising a little while
-before eight; the breeze continued to blow
-strong, and the ocean rolled into the land in
-tall dark-green lines of waves, melting as
-they charged in endless succession into wide
-spaces of foam, orange coloured by the sunset.</p>
-
-<p>‘Do you hear that echo of thunder in the
-cliff I told you about?’ said my husband.</p>
-
-<p>I listened and said ‘Yes.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It is like a distant firing of guns,’ said
-Mary.</p>
-
-<p>‘You have some good boats down there<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span>
-dancing beside the pier,’ said my husband to
-the boatman.</p>
-
-<p>‘Ay,’ answered the boatman, ‘you’ll need
-to sail a long way round the coast to find
-better boats than them.’</p>
-
-<p>‘That is a pretty boat, Mary,’ said I,
-pointing to one with two masts—a tall mast
-in the fore-part and a short mast at the stern;
-she was painted green and red, and she was
-very clean and white inside, and she appeared
-in my eyes the prettiest of all the boats as she
-dived and tumbled and leaped buoyantly and
-not without grace upon the sharp edges of
-the broken water.</p>
-
-<p>‘That’s my boat, lady,’ said the sailor.</p>
-
-<p>‘What is her name?’ inquired Mary.</p>
-
-<p>‘The <i>Mary Hann</i>, he answered. ‘I
-named her after my wife. My wife is gone
-dead. I’ve got no wife now but she,’ and
-he pointed with his thumb backwards at his
-boat, ‘and she’s but a poor wife too. She<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span>
-airns little enough for me. T’other kept the
-home together with taking in washing, but
-nobody comes to Piertown now. Folks want
-what’s called attractions. But the Local
-Board’ll do nothen except buy land as belongs
-to the men who forms the Local Board,
-and the likes of me has to pay for that there
-land, and when it’s bought fower five times as
-much as it’s worth, it’s left waste. Lord, the
-jobbery! Are you making any stay here,
-sir?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes,’ answered my husband, ‘we are
-here for a month.’</p>
-
-<p>‘And when might ye have arrived?’ inquired
-the boatman.</p>
-
-<p>‘To-day,’ replied my husband.</p>
-
-<p>‘There’s some very good fishing to be had
-here, sir,’ said the boatman. ‘If I may make
-so bold, whenever you wants a trip out,
-whether for fishing or rowing or sailing, if so
-be as you’ll ask for me, my name being<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span>
-William Hitchens, best known as Bill Hitchens,
-pronounced in one word Billitchens—for
-there’s parties here as’ll swear they didn’t
-know who you vos asking for if you don’t
-call me Billitchens—if you ever want a boat,
-sir, and you ladies, if you’ll ask for Billitchens,
-you’ll meet with satisfaction. There’s nothen
-to touch the <i>Mary Hann</i> in sailing, whilst for
-fishing she’s as steady as a rock, as you may
-guess, sir, by obsarving her beam.’</p>
-
-<p>‘When I want a boat I will ask for Billitchens,’
-said my husband, glancing at me with
-a smile in his eye. ‘This lady—my wife—is
-fonder of the sea than I am. I dare say she
-will sometimes take a cruise with you. But
-the weather must be fine when she does so.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You trust the weather to me, lady,’ said
-the boatman. ‘Man and boy for over forty-eight
-year I’ve been a-crawling about this
-beach and a-studying the weather. You leave
-him to me. Whenever you want a cruise you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span>
-ask for Billitchens and the <i>Mary Hann</i>, and if
-the weather ain’t promising for the likes of
-such a lady as you, you shall have the truth.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What are your charges?’ said my husband.</p>
-
-<p>‘Wan and sixpence an hour,’ answered the
-boatman cheerfully, ‘but if you’d like to
-engage my boat by the week ye shall have
-her at your own price, giving me so much
-every time ye takes me along.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Is she not heavy to row?’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Lord love ye!’ he cried, gazing at his
-boat with a sour smile of wonder at the question.
-‘A hinfant could send her spinning.
-‘Sides,’ he added, ‘I’ll take care to ship a
-pair o’ light oars for you, lady, what’s called
-sculls, nigh as light as this here baccay-pipe.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Well, good afternoon, Mr. Hitchens,’ said
-my husband, and we strolled in the direction
-of our home, for the shadow of the even<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span>ing
-was now upon the sea, and the strong
-wind seemed to have grown very cold on a
-sudden.</p>
-
-<p>However, before we retired to rest the
-night fell silent, the sea stretched in a dark
-sheet, and from our windows, so high seated
-was the house, the ocean looked to slope steep
-into the sky, as though, indeed, it were the
-side of a mighty hill. The moon rode over
-it, and under the orb lay a column of glorious
-silver which stirred like the coils of a moving
-serpent as the swell or the heave of the water
-ran through it. The dark body of a ship
-passed through that brilliant path of light as
-we stood looking, and the sight was beautiful.</p>
-
-<p>My little ones were sleeping well. Johnny
-slept in our room and the baby with the
-nurse, for my husband could not bear to be
-disturbed in his sleep. I looked at my boy,
-and asked my husband to tell me if he did
-not think there was already a little bloom on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span>
-Johnny’s cheek, and I kissed my child’s sweet
-brow and golden hair.</p>
-
-<p>But it was long before my eyes closed in
-sleep. I lay hearkening to the dull subdued
-thunder of the surf beating upon the beach
-far below at the foot of the cliffs. It was a
-new strange noise to me, and I lay listening
-to it as though to a voice muttering in
-giant whispers out of the hush of midnight;
-and when at last I fell asleep I dreamt that I
-was in the <i>Mary Hann</i>, and that Bill Hitchens
-was steering the boat, and that she was sailing
-directly up the line of glorious silver
-under the moon; and I remember that I
-asked him in my dream how long it would
-take to reach the moon that as we sailed
-waxed bigger and soared higher; but instead
-of answering he put his knuckles into his eyes
-and began to sob and cry, and I awoke to
-hear little Johnny calling to me to take him
-into my bed.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span></p>
-
-<p>And now followed days as happy as light
-hearts and bright skies and good health could
-render them. The weather continued splendid.
-Sometimes it was as hot as ever it had
-been during the month of July in the city
-of the Abbey Church. There was a pleasant
-neighbourhood, a country of woods and verdant
-dingles and swelling pastures, and we
-made many excursions, and in particular did
-we enjoy a visit to some old ruins which had
-once been an abbey, but now its windows
-yawned, its roof was gone, large portions of
-masonry had fallen, its floor was a tangled
-growth of rank grass and weeds. We listened
-to the wind whistling through these ruins:
-we listened with bated breath and with raised
-imaginations, for the noise of the wind was
-like the chanting of friars intermixed with a
-thin wailing of women’s voices; and as I
-listened I could not help thinking to myself
-that it was as though the ghosts of long-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span>departed
-monks and chaste and holy nuns
-had viewlessly assembled round about us to
-sing some solemn dirge, and that if our eyes
-were as fine a sense as our hearing—if, indeed,
-we could <em>see</em> the invisible as we could
-<em>hear</em> it—we might behold the vision of the
-building itself spread over our heads and on
-either hand of us, in roof, in glorious coloured
-window, in sepulchral monument.</p>
-
-<p>Here it was that my little Johnny, in running
-from me towards the grass which grew
-upon what had been the pavement of this
-ancient abbey, tripped and fell and lay
-screaming as though fearfully hurt. Mary
-took him up: he was not hurt. My husband,
-looking into the grass to observe what had
-tripped the child, put his hand upon something
-grey and picked up a little skull.
-‘Good God!’ he cried, casting it from him
-with a shudder, ‘let us get away from this
-place.’ But Mary remained behind alone for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span>
-some minutes, with her eyes bent upon the
-little skull, musing upon it.</p>
-
-<p>Though we made several inland excursions
-our chief haunts were the pier and the beach.
-Those were happy days indeed. My sister
-and I would take camp-stools down on to the
-sands, and long mornings did we thus pass,
-my husband moving indolently here and
-there, smoking, examining pools of water,
-stooping to pick up a shell; Johnny scooping
-with a stick at my side; baby sleeping in the
-arms of the nurse. There we would sit and
-watch the quiet surface of the sea that melted
-into the blue air where the sky came down to
-it, and gaze at the oncoming breaker poising
-its tall emerald-green head for a breathless
-instant, like some huge snake about to strike,
-ere tumbling in thunder and snow and roaring
-seawards in a cataract of yeast.</p>
-
-<p>We seemed—indeed, I believe we were—the
-only visitors in the place. Nobody in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span>truded
-upon us; the miles of sand were our
-own. Robinson Crusoe’s dominion was not
-more uninterrupted.</p>
-
-<p>The boatman named William Hitchens had
-called twice at the house early in the morning
-to know if we would go for a nice little sail
-or row during the day, but the answer I had
-sent by the servant was, ‘Not yet.’ I was in no
-hurry to go for a nice little sail or a row.
-When I was on the sands the sea was so close
-to me that it was almost the same as being on
-it; and the novelty of having the sea feathering
-to my feet in white and broken waters
-remained too great an enjoyment for some
-days to induce a wish in me for wider experiences.
-And then again, neither Mary nor my
-husband had the least taste for boating, so
-that if I went I must go alone. I was not
-even able to have my children with me, for
-the nurse declared that the mere looking
-from the beach at a boat rocking upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span>
-water made her feel ill, and I dared not single-handed
-take the children, for how could I,
-holding the baby, have looked after little
-Johnny, who was always on the move, crawling
-here and creeping there, and who was
-just the sort of child to wriggle on to a seat
-of the boat and tumble overboard whilst my
-head was turned?</p>
-
-<p>However, after we had been at Piertown
-five days we walked down to the sands as
-usual after breakfast, and as we passed the
-entrance of the pier Bill Hitchens approached
-us, pulling at a grey lock of hair that hung
-upon his forehead under an old felt bandit-shaped
-hat.</p>
-
-<p>‘A beautiful morning for a sail or a row,
-lady,’ said he, addressing himself to me as
-though he had long before made up his mind
-that there was no custom to be got out of my
-husband and my sister, ‘why not wenture on
-an hour, mum? There’s as pretty a little off<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span>shore
-wind a-blowing as could be wished. And
-look how smooth the water is! Only let me
-draw you clear of this here ground swell, and
-ye won’t know you’re afloat. Or if you don’t
-like sailing, I’ll put a small oar into the boat,
-and with me rowing agin ye, lady, ye shall see
-how light a boat she is.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Go, Agnes,’ said my husband, observing
-that I looked wistfully at the water.</p>
-
-<p>‘Come, Mary!’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘No, dear,’ she answered, ‘I am certain to
-suffer from headache afterwards.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Why don’t <em>you</em> come along, sir?’ said the
-boatman to my husband.</p>
-
-<p>‘Because I am very well, thank you, Billitchens,
-and I wish to remain well,’ answered
-my husband.</p>
-
-<p>‘I will go,’ said I, and instantly the boatman
-was in motion. He ran with uncouth
-gestures to a ladder that descended the pier-side,
-disappeared down it, and presently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span>
-emerged in a little skiff which he propelled
-with an oar over the stern. Having arrived
-at his boat, which was moored in the middle
-of the small harbour, if I may so term the
-space of water within the embrace of the
-crooked arm of the pier, he freed and brought
-her to some steps. I entered, perhaps a little
-nervously, sat down, and Bill Hitchens throwing
-his oars over pulled the boat out to sea.
-Little Johnny screamed and wept, imagining
-that I was leaving him for ever. I kissed my
-hand and waved it to him, and Mary, taking
-the little fellow in her arms, comforted him.</p>
-
-<p>Now out of that simple English scene of
-coast life, out of the familiar commonplace
-experience of a boating trip, what, if it were
-not death, what should be able to shape itself
-so potent in all horror as to utterly and absolutely
-shipwreck my happiness and make a
-frightful tragedy of my life? Death it might
-well have been; again and again small sailing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span>
-boats are capsizing and their inmates are
-thrown into the water and drowned; but
-worse than death was to befal me. When I
-close my eyes and behold with the vision of
-my mind the scene of that little town, and
-the terraces of the cliffs, though I am able to
-connect the long chain of circumstance link
-by link, the memory of the disaster and all
-that followed the disaster affects me even at
-this instant of time with the violence of a
-paralysing revelation. I know the past to be
-true, and still I gaze dumbly and with terror
-backwards, incapable of crediting it.</p>
-
-<p>But the dreadful misfortune that was to
-overwhelm me did not happen at once. No:
-my short excursion that morning I thoroughly
-enjoyed. All was safe, well, and delightful.
-I told the boatman to keep somewhat close in
-to the shore, and I held my husband and
-sister and children in view all the while. The
-boatman rowed leisurely, and my dear ones<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span>
-on the shore kept pace with the boat until
-they had arrived at their favourite spot on
-the sands, where they seated themselves and
-watched me. I rowed a little and found the
-oar the man had placed in the boat for my
-use very light and manageable; but I plied
-it unskilfully; indeed I was but a wretched
-oarswoman. Yet it amused me to dip the
-blade into the water however clumsily, and to
-feel that the boat received something of her
-impulse from the swing of my figure.</p>
-
-<p>Bill Hitchens talked much, and had I
-heeded his conversation I might have found
-his queer words and odd thoughts and expressions
-amusing; but I was too much occupied
-with my oar, and with looking at the group
-on the sands, and with admiring the coast, to
-attend to his queer speech. And, indeed,
-we were at just such a distance from the coast
-as enabled me to witness in perfection its incomparable
-romantic beauties. The cliffs rose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span>
-in dark and rugged ramparts, and their
-gloomy massy colours were peculiarly defined
-by the line of white surf which, the
-fall of the breakers being continuous, seemed
-fixed as though painted along the foot of the
-coast. The windows of the house we occupied
-sparkled over the edge of the heights,
-but the structure was so high lodged, the
-altitude from the sea appeared so prodigious,
-that spite of the softening shadow of
-trees behind it, and spite of its quaint and
-cosy shape, it had an odd, wild, windy look
-to my eyes, and I wondered as I gazed at it
-that it had not been levelled long ago by one
-of the many hurricanes of wind which Bill
-Hitchens told me thundered across the sea
-and against the land in winter time, blind
-with snow and black with flying scud. And
-the town made me think of Tennyson’s description
-of a coastal village, for there was a
-frosty sparkle upon the houses as though they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span>
-were formed of blocks of rock salt. The sky
-was a deep blue, and I noticed that it seemed
-to tremble and thrill where the bend of it
-disappeared past the edge of the cliffs, as if
-the dye of the cliffs themselves were lifting
-and sifting into it, and deepening the beauty
-of its hue just there. The water was everywhere
-flashful with the light wind that was
-blowing from the land. Presently the boatman
-said:</p>
-
-<p>‘Lady, let me gi’ you a bit of a sail?’</p>
-
-<p>I consented, and he took my oar from me
-and laid it in the boat, then loosed a big sail
-that lay upon the seats and hoisted it, and
-afterwards he set a little sail at the stern,
-and then sat down at the tiller and steered,
-making the boat skim along on a line with the
-beach. My dear ones flourished their hands
-to me.</p>
-
-<p>This was enjoyment indeed. The boat
-seemed to me to sail wonderfully fast; I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span>
-looked over the stern and perceived that she
-left behind her a long furrow as beautiful
-with its ornamentation of foam and bubble
-and eddies as a length of rich lace. Hitchens
-sailed the boat to and fro, and all the time he
-was bidding me observe what a beautiful
-boat she was, how there was nothing
-whatever to be afraid of, how in such
-a boat as the <i>Mary Hann</i>, as he called
-her, a party of people might sail round
-the United Kingdom in perfect comfort and
-security.</p>
-
-<p>‘Only make it worth my while,’ said he,
-‘and I’d go to Ameriky in this here boat.
-Make it worth my while, lady, and I’d double
-the Harn in her. Ameriky was discovered
-by folks as would have swopped their precious
-eyes for such a boat as this here to make
-the voyage in. I don’t speak of Australey,
-for Cook he had a ship; but I’ve heered tell
-of Columbus; there’s one of us chaps as has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span>
-read all about that gent and is always a-yarning
-about him; and ower and ower I’ve heard
-him say that that there Columbus would have
-swopped his precious eyes for the likes of
-such a boat as the <i>Mary Hann</i> for to make
-his discovery with.’</p>
-
-<p>In this manner Bill Hitchens discoursed
-about his boat, as he sat beside the tiller
-with his head well between his shoulders and
-his back rounded like a cat’s at the sight of
-a dog.</p>
-
-<p>After this I was continually making excursions
-with Bill Hitchens. Having got to
-know him, I never would hire another in his
-place. Indeed, he took care that nobody
-should supplant him, and called for orders
-every morning with the punctuality of the
-butcher or the grocer. Often I would go out
-twice a day, so keen was my enjoyment of
-the pastime of sailing and rowing. Twice
-my husband accompanied me, but after the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span>
-second time he told me he had had enough,
-and he went no more in the boat. Once I
-coaxed Mary into joining me, and in less than
-five minutes the boatman was obliged to put
-her ashore, and when I returned two hours
-later I found her motionless on the sofa with
-a sick headache.</p>
-
-<p>The behaviour of the boatman did not
-belie the character I seemed to find written
-in his face. He proved a very honest, civil,
-deserving fellow, possessed of a quality of
-sourness that imparted a particular relish to
-his odd manner of speaking. I did not fear
-to be alone with this man. I had every
-confidence in his judgment and prudence.
-He was allowed by his comrades of the beach
-to be one of the smartest boatmen on the
-coast. My husband ascertained this, and he
-also agreed with me in my opinion of the
-fellow’s respectability, and day after day I
-would enter the boat and my husband would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span>
-stand watching me without the faintest misgiving
-of any sort in either of us.</p>
-
-<p>On several occasions Hitchens carried
-me out to so great a distance that the features
-of the land were indistinguishable,
-and these long trips I enjoyed most
-of all; they were like voyages, and when I
-stepped on shore I would feel as though
-I had just arrived from the other side of
-the world.</p>
-
-<p>We had now been a day over three weeks
-at Piertown. The weather had continued fine
-and warm throughout—in truth, a more
-beautiful October I never remember—and we
-had all benefited vastly by the change. But
-on the morning of this day my husband received
-a letter. He opened it, read it attentively,
-and exclaimed to me across the
-breakfast table, ‘I shall have to leave you
-for a couple of days.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Why?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span></p>
-
-<p>He passed the letter to me: it was a
-business letter, addressed to him by his clerk.
-The nature of the business does not concern
-us; enough that the call was important and
-peremptory. The business, my husband said,
-would certainly detain him in Bath until
-the hour of the departure of a late train on
-the following night, if indeed he should be
-able to return then.</p>
-
-<p>I packed his handbag, and Mary and I
-walked with him to the railway station. I
-kissed him, and we parted.</p>
-
-<p>My sister and I returned home to take
-the children to the sands. We passed the
-morning under the cliffs, talking and reading
-and playing with the children. It was a
-bright day, but I afterwards remembered
-noticing that the blue of the heavens was
-wanting in the beautiful clear vividness of
-hue of the preceding days. The azure had a
-somewhat dim and soiled look, such as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span>
-one might fancy it would exhibit in a
-very fine, thin dust-storm. I also afterwards
-remembered having observed that
-there was a certain brassiness in the glare of
-the sun, as if his light were the reflection of
-his own pure golden beams cast by a surface
-of burnished brass or copper. These things
-I afterwards recollected I had noticed, yet I
-do not remember that I spoke of them to
-my sister.</p>
-
-<p>We dined at one o’clock. The road from
-our house to the sands carried us past the
-entrance to the pier. As we leisurely strolled,
-Bill Hitchens lifted his breast from the post
-which he was overhanging, and approached
-us with a respectful salutation of his hand
-to his brow.</p>
-
-<p>‘Will you be going out this afternoon,
-lady?’ he asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘My husband has been called away,’
-I replied, ‘and I do not feel as if I should<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span>
-care to go upon the water during his
-absence.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You will find the afternoon tedious, dear,’
-said Mary.</p>
-
-<p>‘It’s a beautiful day, lady,’ said the boatman.
-‘There’s a nice little air o’ wind stirring.
-Couldn’t ask for a prettier day for a sail, lady.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It is somewhat cloudy,’ said I, directing
-my gaze at the sky.</p>
-
-<p>‘Fine weather clouds, lady,’ said the boatman.
-‘Keep your sight upon ’em for a bit
-and you’ll find they’re scarcely moving.’</p>
-
-<p>‘That is true,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘If you go,’ said Mary, ‘I will take
-Johnny and baby for a drive.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You’ll soon be leaving Piertown, lady,
-worse luck!’ said the boatman, with an insinuating
-grin. ‘This here fine weather ain’t
-a-going to last neither. It won’t be long afore
-we’ll be laying our boats up. It may be
-blowing hard to-morrow, lady, and it may<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span>
-keep on blowing until your time’s up for
-retarning.’</p>
-
-<p>I reflected and said, ‘Well, Hitchens, you
-can get your boat ready for me by half-past
-two or a quarter to three. I’ll be back
-by four,’ said I, addressing Mary, as we
-walked home, ‘and by that time you’ll have
-returned. Do not keep baby out later than
-four,’ and we talked of my husband and on
-home matters as we climbed the road that led
-to the level of the cliff.</p>
-
-<p>At a quarter-past two I was ready to walk
-to the pier for a trip which I thought might
-likely enough prove my last, and which was
-not to exceed an hour and a quarter. I was
-dressed in the costume in which I usually
-made these excursions—in a blue serge dress,
-a warm jacket, and a sailor’s hat of grey
-straw. An old-fashioned fly stood at the door
-waiting for Mary and the nurse and children.
-I took baby in my arms and kissed her, and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span>
-lifted Johnny and kissed him and saw the
-little party into the fly, which drove off.</p>
-
-<p>I lingered a moment or two. A strange
-sense of loneliness suddenly possessed me. I
-cannot imagine what could have caused it if
-it were not the silence that followed upon the
-fly driving off, together with the thought that
-my husband was away. I entered the little
-parlour to ascertain the time by the clock on
-the mantelpiece, for my watch had stopped
-and I had left it in my bedroom. Upon the
-table lay a pair of baby’s shoes, and a horse
-and cart that my husband had bought for
-Johnny was upon the floor. As I looked at
-these things I was again visited by an unaccountable
-feeling of loneliness. But it could
-possess no possible signification to me, and
-passing out of the house I closed the hall-door
-and walked briskly down to the pier.</p>
-
-<p>The boat was ready. I entered her, and
-Hitchens rowed out of the harbour. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span>
-surface of the water was smooth, for the small
-breeze of the morning had weakened and
-was now no more than a draught of air; but
-the sea undulated with what sailors call ‘a
-swell,’ upon which the boat rose and sank
-with a sensation of cradling that was singularly
-soothing to me. The horizon was somewhat
-misty, and I observed that the extremities
-of the coast on either hand in the distance
-were blurred, showing indeed as though
-they were mirrored in a looking-glass upon
-which you had slightly breathed.</p>
-
-<p>‘It looks somewhat foggy out upon the
-sea,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Nothen but heat, lady, nothen but
-heat. I like to see fog myself with the wind
-out at Nothe. When that happens with fine
-weather it sinifies that fine weather’s a-going
-to last.’</p>
-
-<p>The figures of a few boatmen idly lounged
-upon the esplanade. A man in a white apron,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span>
-smoking a pipe, stood in the door of one of
-the public-houses, watching us as the boat
-receded. A coastguardsman, stick in hand,
-leaned over the edge of the pier, gazing down
-at the little cluster of boats which swayed
-upon the gently heaving water of the harbour.
-The sun shone upon some bright gilt
-sign of a cock, or bird of some sort, over the
-door of one of the public-houses; and next
-door to this sign was another, the painted
-head and bust of a woman eagerly inclining
-forwards, with the right arm advanced and a
-wreath in her hand. It had probably been
-the figure-head of a ship.</p>
-
-<p>These little details of the picture I remember
-remarking as I looked at the shore
-whilst the boat leisurely drew away. What a
-dull, motionless place did Piertown seem!
-The main street climbing the hill was visible
-past the curve of the pier, and only two
-figures were to be seen ascending it.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot understand how you men get a
-living,’ said I to Bill Hitchens.</p>
-
-<p>‘We don’t onderstand it ourselves, lady,’
-said he.</p>
-
-<p>‘You are boatmen, but nobody hires your
-boats,’ said I. ‘How do you live?’</p>
-
-<p>‘It’s a riddle, mum,’ answered Hitchens,
-‘and there ain’t no answer to it.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yet those boatmen,’ said I, ‘who are
-standing upon the esplanade are comfortably
-dressed, they appear neat and clean, their
-clothes may be rough but they are fairly
-good and warm, they are all smoking and I
-suppose they have to pay for the tobacco
-they smoke; they, and others like them, are
-constantly in and out of the public-houses,
-and the beer which they drink must cost
-them money. How do they manage?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I’ve been man and boy getting on for
-eight and forty years upon that there beach,’
-said Bill Hitchens, ‘and if you ask me to tell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span>
-you how me and the likes of me manages, my
-answer is, lady, I gives it up.’</p>
-
-<p>We were silent, and I continued to look
-at the shore and to admire the scene of it.</p>
-
-<p>‘The time was,’ said Bill Hitchens meditatively,
-‘when I hoped to live to see the day as
-’ud find me the landlord of a public-house.
-When all’s said and done, lady, I don’t know
-that a plain man like myself could ask for a
-more enjoyable berth than a public. Take a
-dark, wet, cold night, blowing hard and the
-air full of snow and hail. Only think of the
-pleasure of opening the door just to look out,
-so as to be able to step back again into the
-light and warmth and all the different smells
-of the liquors,’ he added, snuffing. ‘Only
-think how pleasingly the time flies in yarning
-with customers. Then, if ever ye stand in
-need of a drain, there it is—anything ye like
-and nothen to pay; ’cos when a landlord drinks
-it’s always at the expense of his customers,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span>
-whether they knows it or not. Then think
-again, lady, of a snug little parlour at the
-back, all shining with clean glasses and mugs
-like silver, with a warm fire and a kettle of
-boiling water always ready—ah!’ He broke
-off with a deep sigh.</p>
-
-<p>‘I’ll take an oar,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Lor’ bless me!’ he cried, running his eyes
-over the boat. ‘I’ve forgotten to ship a pair
-of sculls for you,’ by which term he signified
-the light oars he was in the habit of placing
-in the boat for my use.</p>
-
-<p>‘The oar you are rowing with will be too
-heavy for me, I fear,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>I dorn’t think it will, mum,’ he answered.
-‘Suppose ye try it. After you’re tired of
-rowing we’ll hoist the sail, for we shall find
-more wind stirring when we get out furder.’</p>
-
-<p>He adjusted the oar and I seated myself
-at it and began to row. He sat in the
-bows of the boat near the tall mast and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span>
-upon a hinder seat near to that end of the
-boat which I had heard him call the ‘stern
-sheets.’ I did not find the oar so heavy as I
-had imagined. The boatman had placed it
-so as to fairly balance it and I continued to
-swing it without much trouble.</p>
-
-<p>But after I had been rowing a few minutes
-the pressure of the handle of the oar in my
-grasp caused my rings to hurt me. I endured
-the inconvenience until it became a pain;
-then, tilting the oar and supporting it by my
-elbow, I pulled off my rings—that is to say,
-my wedding-ring and two others, all that I
-wore—and placed them by my side on the
-sail, which lay in a sort of bundle along the
-seats. I never had any superstitious feeling
-about my wedding-ring. Over and over
-again had I removed it to wash my hands.
-With many women, when once the wedding-ring
-is on, it is on for ever. Well would it
-have been for me had I possessed the senti<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span>ment
-of tender and graceful superstition that
-influences most wives in this way.</p>
-
-<p>My rings being removed I applied myself
-again to the oar, and for about a quarter of
-an hour Bill Hitchens and I continued to row
-the boat out into the open sea. By this time
-we had reached a distance of a mile from the
-land. The faint air had been slowly freshening
-into a little breeze, and the water was
-rippling briskly against the side of the boat.
-I was now tired of rowing, and, asking Bill
-Hitchens to take the oar from me, I rose from
-my seat and sat down near the tiller.</p>
-
-<p>‘May as well hoist the sail now, lady,
-don’t ye think?’ said Bill Hitchens.</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, you can hoist the sail,’ said I, ‘but
-I do not wish to go too far from the land.
-What o’clock is it?’</p>
-
-<p>He extracted an old silver watch from
-somewhere under his jersey and gave me the
-time.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I wish to be home by about a quarter
-past four,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>He answered that he would see to it, and,
-seizing hold of a rope which passed through
-the top of the mast, he hoisted the sail. He
-then came to where I was sitting, and set the
-little sail upon the mast at the stern, and
-when this was done he grasped the tiller, and
-the boat, feeling the pressure of the breeze in
-her broad canvas—for though she was a
-small boat she carried a sail that I would
-think was disproportionately large for her
-size—heeled over and cut through the water
-on her side very quickly.</p>
-
-<p>‘It’s a nice soldier’s wind for the land,
-lady,’ said the boatman.</p>
-
-<p>‘What is a soldier’s wind?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘Why,’ he answered, ‘a wind that allows
-ye to go there and back wherever ye may
-be bound to.’</p>
-
-<p>‘The coast looks a long way off, Hitchens.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span></p>
-
-<p>‘It’s vurking up a bit hazy, lady, but
-there’s nothen to hurt.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I expect the sky will be overcast before
-sunset,’ said I. ‘Do you see that bank of
-clouds hazily peering through the air over
-the coast there?’ and I indicated a portion of
-the land which certainly did not lie in the
-direction whence the wind was blowing; so
-that it was plain to me, ignorant as I was in
-all such matters, though my perception had
-been sharpened a little by being much upon
-the water, and by listening to Bill Hitchens
-discoursing upon the several aspects of his
-calling—I say it was plain to me that those
-clouds were working their way up over the
-land, and that if they did not promise a
-change of weather they must certainly betoken
-a shift of wind.</p>
-
-<p>The boatman cast his eyes carelessly towards
-the coast and said ‘that there was
-nothing to hurt in them clouds, that he rather<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span>
-believed they were settling away instead of
-rising,’ and then he changed the subject by
-asking me if my husband had gone to London,
-and if I had ever seen London, and if it
-was as big a place as folks pretended it to be.</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">‘WHO AM I?’</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">I sat</span> looking about me, now watching the
-pretty wreaths of foam spring past the sides
-of the boat, now gazing at the land whose
-features had blended into a long, dark, compact,
-but hazy line, sometimes addressing
-questions to Bill Hitchens, and always enjoying
-what to me was the exquisitely pleasurable
-sensation of the boat buoyantly sweeping
-over the little feathering ripples, when, my
-eyes going on a sudden to my left hand, I
-cried out, ‘Oh, where are my rings?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Your rings, lady?’ exclaimed the boatman.</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, my rings. Did you not see me take<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span>
-off my rings? I put them on the sail that
-lay near me. Oh, where are they, where
-are they? I cannot lose them. One is my
-wedding-ring and the other two are my husband’s
-gifts. Oh, Hitchens, where are they?’
-I cried, and, with a passion of eagerness and
-fear, I hunted over the bottom of the boat
-with my eyes, peering and straining my gaze
-at every crevice and hollow.</p>
-
-<p>‘Now be calm, lady,’ said Hitchens, ‘it’ll
-come right. The rings can’t be fur off. Let
-me question you. Where did you say you
-put ’em?’</p>
-
-<p>‘That sail up there lay along the seats,
-and I put my rings on it, on a corner of it
-that was close to me. I believed that they
-would be safe there. They could not slide off
-canvas.’</p>
-
-<p>The man’s face fell as he looked into the
-bottom of the boat.</p>
-
-<p>‘If you’ll catch hold of this here tiller,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span>
-lady,’ said he, ‘I’ll have a search. They can’t
-be fur off, I hope,’ he added in a voice meant
-to encourage me.</p>
-
-<p>I put my hand on the tiller, but hardly
-knew what more to do with it than to keep it
-steady. My distress was exquisite. When I
-looked over the bottom of the boat and could
-not see any glitter of my wedding-ring and
-the other two rings I shivered as though possessed
-with a passion of grief. Oh, if I had
-been careless in removing my rings, it shocked
-me to the heart to think of losing them—of
-losing my wedding-ring, that symbol of my
-wedded love and happiness.</p>
-
-<p>‘Do you see any signs of them?’ I cried
-to Hitchens. ‘I shall not mind the loss of the
-other rings, but I must have my wedding-ring—I
-must not lose it—I <em>cannot</em> lose my
-wedding-ring.’</p>
-
-<p>The poor fellow, with a face of real concern,
-groped about the bottom of the boat.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span>
-He lifted up a board, and carefully felt about
-with his hand in some water that lay in a
-kind of well. But I was sure that if the
-rings were not to be seen at once they would
-not be seen at all, because there were three
-of them, and one at least must certainly be
-visible: for though there were many crevices
-in the boat they were all very shallow, and
-the gleam of the rings would be instantly perceptible.</p>
-
-<p>‘I am afraid, lady,’ exclaimed the boatman,
-standing up, ‘that they’ve gone overboard.’</p>
-
-<p>I moaned.</p>
-
-<p>‘I didn’t,’ he continued, ‘take any notice
-of ’em, and in my sudden whipping up of the
-sail they must have been chucked ower the
-side. It’s a bad job true-ly,’ and again he
-bent his figure to look.</p>
-
-<p>I now realised that I had lost my rings;
-it had not been a loss to be instantly felt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span>
-and understood. My wedding-ring was gone;
-another wedding-ring I might easily buy, but
-the one that was consecrated to me by
-memory, the ring with which my husband
-had made me his wife, was irrecoverably gone,
-and as I looked upon my bare hand I wept,
-and then for a third time was I visited with a
-cold heart-subduing feeling of loneliness.</p>
-
-<p>‘Turn the boat for the land,’ I said to
-Hitchens. ‘I am miserable and want to get
-home.’</p>
-
-<p>As he came to the tiller he directed a
-look out at the west, or rather I should say
-in the direction of the coast, for the haze
-had thickened magically within the last ten
-minutes or so, and though the land was
-scarcely above three miles distant it was little
-more than a dim shadow, that seemed to be
-fading out even as we looked. But I was
-still so grieved and distracted by the loss of
-my wedding-ring that I had no eyes save for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span>
-my bare hand, and no thoughts save for what
-was at the bottom of the sea.</p>
-
-<p>‘The wind’s shifted,’ said Hitchens. ‘It
-is off the land. You was right, lady, arter all.
-Them clouds <em>was</em> a-coming up. We shall
-have to ratch home.’</p>
-
-<p>He dragged at some ropes which held the
-corners of the sails, and, moving his tiller,
-caused the boat to turn; but she did not turn
-so as to point the head for the land.</p>
-
-<p>‘Why do you not steer for Piertown?’ I
-said.</p>
-
-<p>‘The wind’s come dead foul, lady. We
-shall have to ratch home.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What do you mean by “ratch”?’</p>
-
-<p>‘We shall have to tack—we shall have
-to beat back.’</p>
-
-<p>I did not understand his language, but
-neither would I tease him by questions. Now
-I was sensible that the wind had increased
-and was still increasing. I lifted up my eyes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span>
-and judged that the wind was coming out
-of a great heap of cloud which lay over the
-land—the heap of cloud whose brows I had
-noticed rising above the edge of the cliff;
-but the mass had since then risen high, and
-there was a shadow upon it as if rain were
-falling. The boat lay sharply over upon her
-side, and her stem, as it tore through the
-water, made a strange stealthy noise of hissing
-as though it were red hot.</p>
-
-<p>‘The land is fading out of sight,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Ay, it’s drawed down thicker than I expected,’
-answered the boatman.</p>
-
-<p>‘Is not the wind very high?’</p>
-
-<p>‘It’s blowing a nice sailing breeze,’ he
-answered; ‘though it’s a pity it’s shifted, as
-you’re in a hurry to get home.’</p>
-
-<p>But as he gazed round the sea I seemed to
-witness an expression of uneasiness in his face.
-It appeared to me that he was sailing away
-from the land. I was alarmed, and questioned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span>
-him. He drew a piece of chalk from his
-pocket and first marked down upon the seat
-the situation of the coast, then the situation
-of the boat, and then the process of tacking,
-and how we should have to sail at angles in
-order to reach Piertown harbour.</p>
-
-<p>‘What time is it, Hitchens?’</p>
-
-<p>He looked at his watch and said, ‘Just
-upon the hour of four.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh! how the time has flown! Already
-four! When shall we arrive, do you think?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I’m afeared,’ he answered, ‘that I sha’n’t
-be able to put ye ashore much before five.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But the atmosphere continues to grow
-thicker. Look! some parts of the coast
-are invisible. If you should lose sight of
-the coast, how will you be able to steer
-for it?’</p>
-
-<p>‘We’ll find our way home all right, lady,’
-he exclaimed cheerfully. ‘Don’t be afeared.
-The loss of them there rings has worried ye,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span>
-as well it might, and I’d give half the worth
-of this boat to be able to fish ’em up.’</p>
-
-<p>I sat silent and motionless, gazing at
-the slowly dissolving line of coast over the
-gunwale. The water was now streaming in
-lines, and every line had its edging of spray,
-and often from these little foaming ridges
-there would flash a handful of glittering crystals,
-as though some hand within were hurling
-diamonds and prisms through the curling
-head of the brine. The thickness of the atmosphere
-lay around the sea, and so shrunk
-the plain of water that it looked no more than
-a lake in size. There was also the gloom of
-gathering clouds in the air, not only of
-the clouds which were rising off the land,
-but of vapour forming overhead and sailing
-athwart the course of the boat in dirty shreds
-and rags of the stuff that is called by sailors
-‘scud!’</p>
-
-<p>‘Will you hold the tiller for a moment,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span>
-lady?’ said the boatman. ‘There’s summat
-wrong with——’ and he pronounced a technical
-word which I do not remember.</p>
-
-<p>I grasped the tiller and he rose and went
-into the bows of the boat, where he paused for
-a moment, looking up; he then got upon the
-gunwale of the boat and stood with his back
-to the sea, with one hand upon a rope that
-ran from the front mast down to the bowsprit.
-He preserved that posture of standing
-and supporting himself and looking upwards
-whilst one might count ten; then let go of
-the rope, brought his hands together over his
-heart and, with a kind of short rattling groan,
-fell backwards.</p>
-
-<p>The boat sat low on the water, and as the
-poor fellow therefore fell from no height, he
-rose to the surface before the boat had gone
-past him by her own length; he floated on
-his back, and made no effort to swim; I do
-not remember witnessing a single struggle in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span>
-him; whence I judged, when I was able to
-think, that he had fallen dead from the gunwale
-of his little vessel; and the manner in
-which he had seemed to clutch at his heart,
-and the short rattling groan that he had
-delivered, confirmed me in this belief.</p>
-
-<p>When he fell I sprang to my feet with
-a shriek of horror. For some moments, which
-would have been precious had he been alive
-and struggling, I did not know what to do.
-My heart stood still, I could not draw a
-breath. Then with lightning speed there
-swept into my head the thought that if he
-were drowned I should be alone, and, being
-alone, I should be absolutely helpless; and
-this thought electrified me, and not only
-enabled me to reflect, but gave me power
-to act. For, far more swiftly than I can relate
-what I did, yes, even though I was
-talking to you instead of writing, I grasped
-one of the long heavy oars and launched it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span>
-towards the figure of the man as a spear is
-hurled. I needed, indeed, the strength of
-terror to accomplish this; at another time
-it would have taxed my strength to merely
-drag the oar to the side and let it fall.</p>
-
-<p>The boat had been sailing fast when the
-poor man dropped from the gunwale, but
-when I sprang up I released the tiller, which
-I had been holding steady, having no knowledge
-whatever of steering, and the boat
-being released from the government of her
-helm, flew round into the wind, but not until
-she had left the body of the man a long
-distance behind; and then she stood upright
-upon the water, with her sails angrily shaking.
-Wild with thought and fear, wild with despair
-and terror, I kept my eyes fastened upon the
-body of the man. Oh, I cried to myself, can
-he not swim? Will he not attempt to reach
-the oar? And I screamed out his name,
-pointing to the direction where the oar lay.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span>
-But as I continued to point and scream out
-his name the body sank. It vanished instantly,
-as though it had been desperately
-jerked under water by some hidden grasp or
-fang below. I stood straining my gaze, not
-knowing but that he might rise again, and
-then it was that the boat, being pointed a
-little away from the wind by the beat of the
-small, short waves, was smitten by the blast
-in her forward canvas; she turned and rushed
-through the water, whitening it, and lying
-dangerously down under the weight of her
-sails; but after she had started she, of her
-own accord, wound round into the wind again
-and sat upright, plunging quickly with her
-canvas rattling, and time after time this process
-was repeated, whilst I stood staring round
-me, seeing nothing of the land, beholding
-nothing, but the contracted plain of the ocean,
-around which the haze or fog stood as a
-wall, whilst overhead the sky was of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span>
-colour of slate, shadowed by speeding wings
-of scud.</p>
-
-<p>It was raining, and when I looked in the
-direction whence the wind was blowing, the
-rain that drove aslant splashed in my face.
-I thought to myself, What will next happen?
-The boat will overset, and I shall be drowned!
-What am I to do?—what am I to do?
-And as I thought thus, weeping bitterly, and
-wringing my hands in the extremity of my
-grief and fright, the boat heeled over and
-depressed her side so low that the white foam
-she churned up flashed and roared to the
-level of the line of her gunwale. I grasped
-the opposite side to save myself from falling,
-by which I no doubt saved my life, because,
-had I slipped and staggered to the depressed
-side, my weight must certainly have capsized
-the boat. She rushed like an arrow round
-again into the wind and then stopped dead,
-plunging yet more sharply.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span></p>
-
-<p>I wrung my hands again and cried aloud,
-What am I to do? But, happily, I had sense
-enough to understand that the very first
-thing to be done was to lower the sail, and
-as I had repeatedly observed poor Hitchens
-hoist the tall sheet of canvas, I knew what
-rope to undo, and, stepping over the seats, I
-released the rope, and, the boat being at that
-moment with her head pointing into the wind,
-the sail fell, but in falling it enveloped me
-and threw me down, and it was some minutes
-before I succeeded in extricating myself.</p>
-
-<p>This, to be sure, was a trifling accident, for
-I was not in the least degree hurt, but the
-being thrown down and smothered by the
-canvas immeasurably heightened my distress
-and terror; I trembled from head to foot, my
-knees yielded under me, and I was forced to
-sit. It was raining hard, and the wet made
-the wind feel cruelly cold as it rushed athwart
-the boat, whipping the crests off the waves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span>
-into an angry showering of spray. But after
-a little I began to find some faint comfort in
-the belief that the boat was stationary. Alas,
-how great was my ignorance! Because she
-did not appear to sail, and because she no
-longer lay dangerously over, I believed she
-was stationary. Yet two little sails were still
-set, a triangular sail at the bowsprit and a
-small square sail at the stern, and I must
-have been crazed indeed not to guess that
-whilst this canvas remained exposed the light
-fabric would be blown along by the wind,
-either sideways or forward, and that, as the
-wind blew directly from the west, every
-minute was widening my distance from Piertown.</p>
-
-<p>But not understanding this, I found some
-heart in the belief that the boat was stationary,
-and I tried to comfort myself in other
-ways. I said to myself, this rain may be a
-passing shower, the weather will brighten<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span>
-presently, the boat will be in view from the
-coast, my situation will be guessed at by the
-boatmen who hang about the Esplanade, and
-they will put off to rescue me. And I also
-said to myself, even if this weather should
-not clear up, even if I remain out here invisible
-from the land, yet when my sister finds
-that it grows dark and I have not returned, she
-is sure to go down to the harbour and offer
-rewards for my rescue, and I may count upon
-several boats coming out to search for me.</p>
-
-<p>Thus I thought, striving to give myself
-heart. But oh, the desolation of that mist-environed
-stretch of steel-grey water—chilly,
-leaping, and streaming in froth! Oh, the
-cruel cold of the rain-laden wind pouring
-shrilly past my ears and penetrating my wet
-clothes till my breast felt like marble! Not
-even now could I realise my situation. I
-knew that I was alone and that I was helpless,
-but the horizon of my fears and wretchedness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span>
-was contained in these simple perceptions. I
-did not believe that I should perish. I was
-sure that succour would come, and my sufferings
-now lay in the agony of expectation, in
-the present and heart-breaking torment of
-waiting.</p>
-
-<p>The time passed, the shadow of the
-evening entered the gloom of the afternoon.
-It continued to rain, and the horizon lay
-shrouded close to the boat, but I believe there
-was no increase in the wind: I noticed no
-increase. But indeed I was too ignorant,
-too despairful, too heartbroken to heed the
-weather, unless it were to observe, with eyes
-half-blind with my own tears and the flying
-rain that the sea was darkening, that the
-thickness lay close around the boat, and that
-nothing ever came out of that thickness save
-the dusky shapes of waves.</p>
-
-<p>‘Am I to be out in this boat all night?’
-I thought to myself. ‘If so, I shall die<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span>
-of cold and exhaustion. I cannot pass the
-whole long night alone in this open boat
-in the rain, and in the bitter cold wind, wet
-through to the skin as I already am, without
-anybody to speak to, without food or drink,
-without a ray of light for my eyes to find
-comfort in resting on. O God! O God!
-I cried, and I went down upon my knees in
-the boat, and, clasping my hands, I gazed
-upwards into the grey, wet shadow of the sky,
-under which the naked mast of the boat was
-reeling, and I prayed to God to be with me,
-to watch over me, to bring help to me before
-I expired of fear and cold, and to return me
-to my sister, and to my little ones who were
-waiting for me.</p>
-
-<p>And now I scarcely know how to proceed.
-What followed was a passage—a horribly long
-passage—of mental suffering incommunicable
-by the pen, nay scarcely to be remembered
-or understood by the sufferer herself. It fell<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span>
-dark, and the black night came, the blacker
-because there was no moon and because of
-the rain and the mist. I had gathered the
-wet cloths of the sail about me as a sort of
-shelter, and I sat with my head above the
-line of the gunwale, for ever looking to left
-and to right, and to right and to left, and
-never seeing more than the pale, near gleam
-of froth. At times thought grew maddening,
-and I shrieked like one in a fit or like a
-woman insane. It was not the fear of death
-that maddened me, it was not the anguish of
-the cold and the wet, nor even the fearful
-loneliness of my situation, a loneliness that
-cannot be imagined, for what magic is there
-in ink to figure the impenetrable blackness
-of the night, to imitate the snapping and
-sobbing sounds of the water and the hissing
-of the wind? No, it was the thought of my
-husband and my children; and it was chiefly
-the thought of my children. Again and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span>
-again, when my mind went to them, I would
-catch myself moaning, and again and again I
-shrieked. With the eye of imagination I saw
-them sleeping: I saw my darling boy slumbering
-restfully in his little bed, I saw my baby
-asleep in her little cot; I bent over them in
-fancy; I kissed the golden hair of my boy,
-and I kissed the soft cheek of my baby; and
-then the yearnings of my heart grew into
-agony insupportable.</p>
-
-<p>And there was a dreadful fancy that again
-and again visited me. Amid the crawling and
-blinking foam over the boat’s side I sometimes
-imagined I saw the body of Hitchens.
-It came and went. I knew it was a deception
-of the senses, yet I stared as though it were
-there indeed. Sometimes there would come
-a sound in the wind that resembled the groan
-he had uttered when he fell overboard.</p>
-
-<p>At some hour of the night, but whether
-before or after midnight I could not have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span>
-told, I was looking over the right side of the
-boat when a large shadow burst out of the
-darkness close to. It swept by wrapped in
-gloom. It was a vessel, and she whitened
-the throbbing dusky surface over which she
-passed with a confused tumble of froth. There
-was not a single spot of light upon her. Her
-sails blended with the midnight obscurity,
-and were indistinguishable. Indeed she was
-to be heard rather than seen, for the noise of
-the wind was strong and shrill in her rigging,
-and the sound of her passage through the
-water was like a rending of satin. She was
-visible, and then she was gone even as I
-looked.</p>
-
-<p>All night long it rained, and it was raining
-at daybreak in a fine thin drizzle. The
-sea was shrouded as on the previous afternoon.
-When the cold and iron grey of the
-dawn was upon the atmosphere, I feebly
-lifted up my head, marvelling to find myself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span>
-alive. I looked about me with my eyes as
-languid as those of a dying person’s, and
-beheld nothing but the streaming waters
-running out of the haze on one side and vanishing
-in the haze on the other side. Had I
-then possessed the knowledge of the sea that
-I afterwards gained, I might have known by
-the character of the waves that during the
-night the boat had been swept a long distance
-out. The billows were large and heavy, and
-the movements of the boat, whose sails were
-too small to steady her, were wild. Yet she
-rose and fell buoyantly. These things I afterwards
-recollected.</p>
-
-<p>I was without hunger, but the presence of
-daylight sharpening my faculties somewhat I
-felt thirsty, and no sooner was I conscious of
-the sensation of thirst than the perception
-that it was not to be assuaged raised it into a
-torment. There was water in the bottom of
-the boat; I dipped my finger into one of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span>
-puddles and put the moisture to my lips. It
-was brackish, almost indeed as salt as the
-water of the sea. I pressed my parched lips
-to the sodden sail, which I had pulled over
-my shoulders, and the moisture of it was as
-salt as the puddle I had dipped my finger
-into.</p>
-
-<p>And now, after this time, I have but a very
-indistinct recollection of what followed. All
-my memories are vague, as though I had dimly
-dreamed of what I saw and suffered. I recollect
-that I felt shockingly ill, and that I
-believed I was dying. I recollect that during
-some hour of this day I beheld a smudge in
-the grey shadow of mist and rain on my right,
-that it kindled an instant’s hope in me, that I
-held open with difficulty my heavy wet eyelids
-and watched it in a sickly and fainting way,
-believing it might prove a boat sent in search
-of me. I followed it with my gaze until it
-melted away in the thickness. I recollect that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span>
-the day passed, and that the blackness of a
-second night came; but, this remembered, all
-else is a blank in my brain.</p>
-
-<p>I opened my eyes and found myself in gloom.
-A few inches above me was a shelf; I supposed
-it to be a shelf. Dim as the light was, there was
-enough of it to enable me to see that what was
-stretched just above me was not part of a
-ceiling. I lay looking at it. I then turned
-my head on to my right cheek and beheld a
-wall. I touched it to make sure. I passed
-my hand slowly over it, and then looked
-up again at the shelf that was stretched
-over my head. I then turned my head
-and perceived a little circle of greenish
-light. I stared at this strange glimmering
-disk of light for a long while, again looked
-upwards, and again feebly passed my hand
-over the wall.</p>
-
-<p>I did not ask myself where I was; I felt
-no curiosity. I was as one in whom an intel<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span>lect
-has been suddenly created, and who passively
-accepts what the sight rests on. I lay
-turning my head from cheek to cheek for
-some ten minutes or a quarter of an hour,
-during which my eyes, having grown used to
-the gloom that was faintly touched by that
-circle of greenish light, began to distinguish objects.
-And first I saw that I was in a very little
-dark room, lying upon a sort of shelf which,
-with the upper shelf, resembled a long box, of
-which one side was wanting; and scarcely had
-I perceived that I was in a little dark room
-than I became sensible that I was upon the
-water: for, as I lay on the shelf, I felt that my
-body was rolled from side to side, and I also
-felt an upwards motion and then a downwards
-motion, and I knew that I was at sea.</p>
-
-<p>Then I thought to myself, I am in the
-cabin of a ship. But how did I get here and
-who am I? Having said to myself <em>Who am I</em>?
-I repeated the words over and over again;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span>
-but as yet without surprise, without terror.
-The question haunted my mind with languid
-iteration, but it induced no emotion. I felt
-sick and extraordinarily weak. Something
-irritated my brow, and, lifting my hand, I
-found my right temple and the eyebrow and
-a portion of the nose as far as the bridge of
-it pasted over with some hard substance. I
-ran my fingers over this substance, but without
-wonderment, and then my arm fell exhausted
-to my side, and feebly turning my
-head on to my left cheek, I stared at the
-glimmering green disc, whilst I kept on thinking
-to myself, but without agitation or fear,
-<em>Who am I</em>?</p>
-
-<p>It did not strike me as in the least degree
-strange that I should not know who I was.
-I lay looking, and I saw a man’s coat swinging
-by a nail near the little circle of dim light.
-I also saw a common cane-bottom chair and a
-dark chest, which I have since learnt to call by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span>
-its proper name of ‘locker.’ From the ceiling
-of this little room there swung, suspended
-by thin brass chains, a strange-looking lamp,
-formed of a globe of metal with a glass chimney.
-I continued to watch that lamp swing
-until my eyelids closed, but whether I fainted
-or slumbered I am unable to say.</p>
-
-<p>When I awoke or regained consciousness
-the glimmering circle of glass had changed
-from dim green into bright yellow. It rippled
-with brilliance as from the reflection of sunshine
-upon water, and there was daylight in
-the little cabin. I heard the sound of a fiddle
-and the voice of a man singing. The sounds
-were on the other side of the wall which I
-had felt over with my hand when I first
-awoke. Presently the music ceased, and
-almost at the moment that it ceased I heard
-the rattle of a door-handle and what looked
-to be a shapeless bulk stood at my side.</p>
-
-<p>On straining my dim sight I saw that the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span>
-figure was that of an immensely fat man. He
-stood with his back to the circular window,
-and for some while I was unable to discern
-his features. Meanwhile he stared at me as
-though there was nothing in my fixed look to
-satisfy him that I was alive or dead. His face
-was perfectly round and his cheeks puffed out
-as if he were in the act of blowing. Upon
-his upper lip were a few short straggling
-hairs, iron grey; his hair was scanty and
-grizzled; his complexion was a brick red,
-apparently from exposure to weather. Yet
-his fat face was deprived of the expression of
-stupid good nature that one commonly finds
-in such countenances by a pair of heavy,
-shaggy, almost white eyebrows, which, coming
-close together over the top of his nose,
-stamped the look of an habitual frown upon
-his forehead. His eyes were small, black and
-piercing, and his age might have been anything
-between fifty and sixty. He wore a red<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span>
-cap, the tasselled point of which fell over his
-ear, and his dress consisted of a soiled and
-well-worn pilot-coat hanging loose over an
-equally soiled and well-worn velveteen jacket.
-A large shawl was wound round his neck, and
-there were gold hoops in his ears. These
-points I afterwards witnessed. All that I
-now observed was his large round face of a
-dusky crimson and the small black eyes in it
-fixed upon me.</p>
-
-<p>At last he exclaimed, in a deep voice:
-‘<span xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Tiens, vous voilà enfin éveillée, après trois
-jours de sommeil! Eh bien, j’espère que
-maintenant vous soyez en état de prendre
-quelque nourriture et de me dire ce que vous
-êtes. Peste! que n’avez-vous donc échappé!
-C’est vrai les femmes peuvent supporter plus
-que les hommes. Elles ne sont pas si facilement
-écrasées que nous autres pauvres
-diables.</span>’</p>
-
-<p>I listened to these words and understood<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span>
-them, but I did not know they were French.
-Yet though I could not have given a name to
-the tongue in which the man spoke I knew
-what he said. My knowledge of French
-suffered me to read it and slightly understand
-it when spoken, but I was unable to converse
-in it.</p>
-
-<p>What he had said was: ‘So then you are
-awake at last! Three days of sleep! Well,
-now you will be able to eat and drink, I hope,
-and tell me who you are. Peste! what an
-escape! But women have more endurance
-than men. They are not so easily destroyed
-as us poor devils.’</p>
-
-<p>I gazed at him without answering. He
-addressed me again in French.</p>
-
-<p>‘What do you say?’ I whispered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Aha! you are Angleesh,’ exclaimed the
-man in his deep voice, and he added in
-French, ‘Stop! I will go and fetch Alphonse.’</p>
-
-<p>His shapeless bulk moved away from the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span>
-side of the shelf and I lay motionless, with my
-eyes fixed upon the bright circle of glass
-upon which the reflection of sunny waters
-without was dancing. But I do not know
-what I thought of. I cannot remember that
-any sort of determinable idea visited me.
-My mind seemed empty, with one strange
-question for ever dully echoing in it: <em>Who am
-I?</em> Yet I also seemed to know that I was not
-mad. I could not tell who I was, but I felt
-that I was not mad. I do not say that my
-instincts assured me of this; I seemed to be
-sensible of it passively. It was a perception
-independent of all effort of mind, a knowledge
-wholly involuntary as the action of the heart
-is involuntary.</p>
-
-<p>In a few minutes I heard the door-handle
-rattle again and two figures came to the side
-of the shelf on which I lay. One was the
-same stout personage that had previously
-visited me; the other was a clean, fresh-look<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span>ing
-young man of the age of four or five and
-twenty, smoothly shaven, with coal black hair
-and eyes, his face of a pronounced French
-type. He was fairly well dressed in a suit of
-grey, and his white shirt collar was buttoned
-low so as to expose the whole of his
-long throat and even a portion of his chest.
-His posture suggested an air of habitual attention
-and respect, and after he had peered
-a while and observed that my eyes were open
-he removed his cap.</p>
-
-<p>‘Speak to her Alphonse,’ said the large
-stout man.</p>
-
-<p>‘How do you do, madame? How do you
-now feel?’ said the younger man in good
-English, pronouncing the words with an excellent
-accent.</p>
-
-<p>I answered faintly, ‘I believe I am dying.
-Where am I?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh,’ he exclaimed quickly, ‘you have
-not eaten, you have not drunken. It is impos<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span>sible
-for people to live unless they eat and
-drink.’</p>
-
-<p>He then addressed himself hurriedly to
-the fat man, who acquiesced with a grunt and
-a gesture of the hand. The young man went
-out, whilst the other remained at my side,
-fixedly staring at me. Even had I been able
-to exert my mind for conversation I could
-not have found my voice. It pained me to
-whisper. The stout man addressed me once
-in barbarous English; I languidly gazed at
-him in silence through my half-closed eyelids,
-and no more was said until the young man
-returned, bearing in one hand a cup and
-saucer and in the other hand a tumbler. The
-cup contained some warm soup; the tumbler
-some weak brandy and water. Now ensued
-a brief discussion between the two men as to
-whether the brandy should be administered
-before the soup or the soup before the
-brandy. The younger man’s views prevailed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span>
-and, correctly judging that I was unable to
-feed myself, he drew the cane-bottom chair to
-my side, seated himself and fed me.</p>
-
-<p>The fat man stood with a stolid countenance,
-looking on. When I had swallowed the
-soup the young man applied the tumbler to
-my lips and I slowly drank.</p>
-
-<p>‘Now,’ said the young man, ‘do you feel
-more comfortable?’</p>
-
-<p>I whispered that I felt better.</p>
-
-<p>‘That is right,’ said he. ‘You must keep
-quiet whether you sleep or not. I am not a
-doctor, but I know a thing or two. I will
-visit you again in two hours with more soup
-and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">eau-de-vie</i>.’ And he said to the fat man
-in his native tongue, ‘Come, uncle, she will
-do. She will not die. Let us leave her.’</p>
-
-<p>They then withdrew.</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">ALPHONSE’S CONJECTURES</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">I turned</span> my face to the wall and closed my
-eyes, and two hours, and perhaps more than
-two hours, passed, during which I did not
-sleep. I then opened my eyes and looked
-about me. I had intelligence enough to observe
-that my skirt and bodice had been
-removed and that I was wrapped in coarse,
-thick blankets. Then, feeling a kind of pricking
-pain about the forehead, I raised my hand
-to my brow and stroked with my finger-nails
-the strips of parchment-like stuff with which
-it was plaistered. What can this be? I
-thought; and then a most awful and terrible
-feeling of bewilderment possessed me. ‘Who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span>
-am I?’ I cried in a voice that was still no
-louder than a whisper, ‘and where am I?
-<span class="locked">And—and—and——’</span></p>
-
-<p>The young man whom the stout person
-had called Alphonse entered, bearing a bowl
-of soup and a glass of weak brandy and water
-upon a tray.</p>
-
-<p>‘Have you slept?’ said he. I feebly
-shook my head. ‘Well,’ he exclaimed with
-the characteristic drawl of the Frenchman
-when he speaks English, ‘it is not to be expected
-that you should sleep or that you
-should require sleep. You have been asleep
-for three days, and now you shall drink this
-soup and afterwards this cognac,’ and, seating
-himself, he fed me and gave me to drink as
-before. He placed the tray upon the deck of
-the little cabin, and sat contemplating me for
-a while with an air of respect that seemed a
-habit in him, mingled with an expression of
-commiseration.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span></p>
-
-<p>‘You will get on,’ he said, ‘you will recover.
-You will be strong by the time we
-get to Toulon.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Toulon?’ I said, speaking faintly.</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, madame, Toulon. We are going to
-Toulon. This brick is now proceeding to
-that port.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Toulon?’ I exclaimed.</p>
-
-<p>‘Madame knows without doubt where
-Toulon is?’</p>
-
-<p>I gazed at him in silence.</p>
-
-<p>‘Does it fatigue you to speak?’ said
-the young man whom I will hereafter call
-Alphonse, for by no other name did I ever
-know him.</p>
-
-<p>‘No,’ said I in a whisper.</p>
-
-<p>‘Then tell me, madame, how it happened
-that you were in the miserable condition from
-which we rescued you?’</p>
-
-<p>I tried to think, but I could not think. I
-forced my gaze inwards, but beheld nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span>
-but blackness. I strained the vision of my
-mind, but it was like straining the balls of
-the sight at a dark wall in a midnight of
-blackness.</p>
-
-<p>‘You do not remember,’ said the young
-Frenchman, shaking his head, ‘the circumstances
-that brought you into the miserable
-condition from which we released you?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I can remember nothing,’ I whispered.
-‘What was my condition?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Stop till you hear me tell you the story,’
-cried Alphonse, holding up two fingers, ‘and
-then you will remember it all. This ship is
-what is called a brick [brig], and her name is
-<i>Notre Dame de Boulogne</i>. She belongs to the
-port of Boulogne-sur-Mer. Her owner and
-captain is Pierre Regnier. He is my uncle.
-He is the gentleman that was here with me.
-I, madame, by occupation am a waiter. I
-am a waiter at the Hôtel des Bains, Boulogne-sur-Mer.
-Our customers are nearly all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span>
-English, and we <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">garçons</i> are expected to speak
-English. My native town is Toulon. My
-uncle Regnier, hearing that I had a holiday,
-says, “Come with me, Alphonse, in my brick
-to Toulon. That is my first port of destination.”
-I consented, and that, madame, explains
-how it is that I am here. Well, it was
-three mornings ago—only think! It was a
-dark morning, and the hour was between five
-and six. It was foggy, and there was a little
-rain. One of the sailors saw a boat; it was
-close to us; before he could give the alarm
-we had struck it—slightly only, very luckily,
-or, madame, where would you now be? Our
-ropes tore down the boat’s mast, and our
-sailors looking cried out that there was somebody
-in the boat. In some way the boat was
-entangled, and she was drawn along at our
-side, but the brick was sailing very slowly
-and the sea was not rough. My uncle Regnier
-commands the sailors to get into the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span>
-boat, and they find you lying there. They
-bring you on board, and by this time there
-is a little daylight, and we see that there is
-blood upon your face, and that you are hurt
-here and here,’ and Alphonse, as he spoke,
-pointed to his brow and to his nose, above
-the bridge of it. ‘No sooner have we taken
-you on board than the boat liberates herself;
-she breaks away, and my uncle says, “Let
-her go.” Well, we carry you into the cabin,
-and I put a mirror to your mouth and find
-that you breathe. I am not a doctor, but I
-know a thing or two. I ask my uncle for
-sticking-plaister, and first I wash the wounds
-and then I strap them up, and they cease
-to bleed. No doubt, madame, you were
-wounded by the boat’s mast falling upon you.
-You reclined insensible in the boat when the
-mast fell. Was it so? Or was it the blow of
-the mast that made you insensible? No, naturally
-you would not remember. But it was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span>
-certainly the mast that produced these
-wounds, for you lay with the mast upon
-you, and the sailors said they saw blood
-upon the mast. Luckily for you, madame,
-the side of the boat prevented all the weight
-of the mast from hitting you, or——’ he
-shrugged his shoulders with a grimace and
-extended his hands. ‘That now is all I can
-tell you.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You found me in a boat?’ I said.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh yes, madame; certainly, yes.’</p>
-
-<p>‘In a boat? Why was I in a boat? I
-cannot remember. Oh, what has happened
-to me? I have no memory! It has all
-gone! Where am I? What is this that has
-come to me?’</p>
-
-<p>I raised myself upon my elbow, and instantly
-fell back, weak, sick, with an overwhelming
-feeling of horror upon me.</p>
-
-<p>‘Be calm, madame, be calm. I am not a
-doctor, but I know a thing or two. What is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span>
-the memory? Tut! It will return. Chut!
-Before you arrive at Toulon you will have
-your memory. Let me hear your name,
-madame?’</p>
-
-<p>‘My name?’ I exclaimed, and I thought
-and thought, and my mind seemed to wrestle
-and struggle within me, like something living
-that has been buried alive.</p>
-
-<p>A light effort to recollect speedily grows
-into a sort of pain. This is true of trifles—as,
-for instance, a name, the recollection of
-which is not important, but you desire to
-pronounce it; the mind explores the gallery
-of the memory in vain for it, and the failure
-to find it grows into a worry and presently
-into a torment. Think, then, how it was with
-me when this young Frenchman asked me for
-my name, and I could not recall it! Recall
-it! Oh, that is to speak too mildly. Why,
-when I turned my mental gaze inwards it
-was like looking into a black abysm of a pro<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span>fundity
-impenetrable, upon the unreachable
-bottom of which was strown the wreckage of
-my past, were scattered the memorials of my
-life, for ever to be hidden from me, as I then
-believed.</p>
-
-<p>‘Let me hear your name, madame?’ said
-the young Frenchman.</p>
-
-<p>I thought and thought and answered, ‘I
-cannot remember my name.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Not remember your name! But that
-is droll. Does it begin with A? Does it
-begin with B?’ and he ran through the
-alphabet.</p>
-
-<p>I listened, and all these letters sounded
-as idly upon my ear as the noise of the wind
-or the sound of passing waters.</p>
-
-<p>‘But you are English?’ said he.</p>
-
-<p>Again I thought and thought, and replied
-in a whisper, ‘I cannot tell.’</p>
-
-<p>He ejaculated in French. ‘Will you not
-ask me some questions?’ said he. ‘Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span>
-whilst you ask questions you will be able to
-recollect.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What shall I ask?’ I answered, ‘I remember
-nothing to ask.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Ask about the boat we found you in.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, tell me about that boat,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Aha!’ cried he, ‘you remember then.
-You know there was a boat?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I remember that you have told me that
-you took me from a boat.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Bravo! What does that signify? I am
-not a doctor, but I know a thing or two.
-Madame, if you can recollect what I say,
-memory you must have. Is it not so? The
-faculty you have. It is like a snake: all its
-body is asleep to the tip of its tail, but it
-is awake with its eyes. What do you think
-of that illustration, madame?’</p>
-
-<p>I listened to him and viewed him in
-silence. I felt terribly weak and ill, but far
-worse to support than this feeling of weak<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span>ness
-and illness was the horror that was upon
-me—a horror I could not understand, an inward
-presence that was made the more
-dreadful by my not being able to find a
-reason for it.</p>
-
-<p>‘Do you ask me about the boat?’ said
-Alphonse. ‘She had two masts, but one was
-broken by us. Beyond that——’ he shrugged
-his shoulders. ‘She slipped away when it
-was still dark. That was a pity. There
-would no doubt have been a name upon
-her.’</p>
-
-<p>He ceased, and I observed that he fastened
-his eyes upon my hands. Then, after looking
-for some little time with attention at my face,
-he struck his forehead and cried, ‘What a
-fool am I not earlier to have thought of it!
-An instant, madame. I will go and bring
-you your memory.’</p>
-
-<p>He departed, and in a few minutes returned,
-holding a large oval handglass.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span>
-‘Now,’ he exclaimed, smiling, ‘look at
-yourself, madame, and, though I am not a
-doctor, I pronounce that all will return to
-you.’</p>
-
-<p>He elevated the glass and I looked at
-myself. But what did I see? Oh, reader,
-turn back to the description, in the opening
-pages of this story, of the lady seated at the
-head of the tea-table in the parlour of the
-house past the avenue of chestnuts; turn to
-it, and compare that face with what I saw
-reflected in the mirror held before me by the
-young Frenchman. The hair was snow-white;
-one eyebrow was snow-white; but the
-other eyebrow was concealed by a wide strip
-of white sticking-plaister. There were several
-such strips, which intersected each other
-upon the right brow, and one of them extended
-to the bridge of the nose, entirely
-sheathing the bone or cartilage, and leaving
-but little more than the extremity of the nose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span>
-and the nostrils visible. The dark eyes were
-sunk and dim. The cheeks were hollow, and
-the complexion a dingy sallow, and as much
-of the brow as was left exposed and parts
-of the flesh of the face were covered with
-thin lines, as though traced by the point of
-a needle.</p>
-
-<p>This was the face that looked out upon
-me from that hand-mirror. I stared at it,
-but I did not know it. Yet it did not terrify
-me, because I was unable to remember my
-former face, and therefore no shock of discovery
-attended my inspection. No, the sight
-of that dreadful face, with its milk-white hair
-and plaistered brow, with here and there a
-stain of dry blood upon the plaister, did not
-terrify me. I gazed as though beholding
-something that was not myself, and still I
-knew that the face that confronted me was
-my own face, and <em>this</em> it was, and not the face
-that deepened the indeterminable feeling of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span>
-horror by quickening within me the awful
-silent question, ‘<em>Who am I?</em>’</p>
-
-<p>‘Now, madame,’ exclaimed Alphonse, ‘look
-steadily, and you will be able to pronounce
-your name and to remember.’</p>
-
-<p>I closed my eyes, and when I opened
-them again he had removed the glass. I tried
-to speak, but though he inclined his head he
-seemed unable to hear me. On this he put
-his finger to his lips, and, after viewing me
-a while with an expression of pity and astonishment,
-he went softly out.</p>
-
-<p>During the greater portion of the day my
-condition was one of stupor. Yet there were
-intervals when my mind was somewhat active.
-In these intervals I questioned myself, and I
-became acutely sensible of the indescribable
-feeling of horror that was upon me, and at
-such times I beheld, painted upon the gloom
-of the shelf on which I lay, the strange face
-that had gazed at me out of the hand-glass,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span>
-and again and again I saw that head of a
-woman whose snow-white hair lay in long
-thick tresses about her shoulders and upon
-the rude bolster, though a portion of it was
-looped up and fastened in coils on the top of
-the head by hairpins, whose dark eyes were
-weak and without light, whose cheeks were
-hollow, and the skin of them and of her brow
-finely lined with innumerable wrinkles, whilst
-the whole countenance was rendered wild and
-repulsive by the lengths of white sticking-plaister
-that striped her temple.</p>
-
-<p>Thrice during that day I was visited by
-the young Frenchman, who, on each occasion,
-brought me soup and some red wine. He was
-accompanied on his third visit by the great
-fat man, his uncle, and by a short man with
-an immense moustache and several days’
-growth of beard—a fierce-looking man, with
-dark knitted eyebrows, and gleaming black
-eyes with the savage stare of a gipsy in their<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span>
-intent regard. He was swathed in a coarse
-coat of pilot cloth, the skirts of which descended
-to his heels, and on his head was a
-fur cap which he did not remove as he stood
-viewing me.</p>
-
-<p>They watched Alphonse feed me; I was
-scarcely conscious of their presence, and even
-if I heeded them, which I doubt, their inspection
-caused me no uneasiness, so languid were
-my faculties, so sick even unto death did I
-feel, so profoundly bewildered was I by the
-questions I asked myself, and by the blackness
-which lay upon the face of my mind
-when I turned my gaze inwards and searched
-it.</p>
-
-<p>The fat man, Regnier, addressed Alphonse,
-who nodded and said to me: ‘Well, madame,
-have you yet thought of your name?’</p>
-
-<p>I answered, ‘No.’</p>
-
-<p>‘And you cannot positively tell me that
-you are English?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I am speaking English; I speak no other
-tongue; I am English, then.’</p>
-
-<p>‘No,’ he exclaimed, smiling, ‘you might
-be American. And you say you do not speak
-any other language than English? How can
-you tell? You may have forgotten other
-languages in which you could converse. For
-example: you might be a German who speaks
-English excellently; and now by some caprice
-of the intellect you forget your German, and
-express yourself in English. I am not a
-doctor,’ he added, wagging his head, ‘but I
-know a thing or two.’</p>
-
-<p>And, turning to the others, he addressed
-them swiftly and with great energy.</p>
-
-<p>At some hour of the night I fell asleep.
-When I awoke, the sunshine was streaming
-brilliantly upon the little circular porthole.
-I lifted up my head and then raised myself
-upon my elbows and found myself stronger.
-I also felt better; the feeling that had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span>
-like approaching death was gone and the
-sickness was passed. I heard the sounds of a
-fiddle and of a man’s voice singing in the next
-cabin. I listened to the voice and knew it to
-be that of the young Frenchman, Alphonse.
-The motion of the vessel was comparatively
-quiet. She was sailing somewhat on her side,
-but she rolled very lightly and the upwards
-and downwards movement was trifling. I
-felt that I had strength enough to sit up, but
-the upper shelf was too close to my head to
-suffer me to do so. I lay still and tried to
-think, and my thoughts ran thus:</p>
-
-<p>Who am I? The face that I saw in the
-mirror yesterday is mine, but it begets no recollection.
-I do not recognise it. It is mine,
-yet it is a face that I have never before seen.
-How, then, can it be mine? But since that
-unknown face must be mine, who am I? I was
-found lying insensible and wounded—and here
-I laid my fingers upon the sticking-plaister<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span>
-upon my brow—in an open boat. She had
-two masts and that is all they can tell me.
-How was it that I was in that boat? When
-did I enter her? I have been in this ship
-four days. How long was I in the boat, and
-from what part do I come? And then there
-was such a struggle of my mind that drops of
-perspiration started from my brow. I cannot
-express the agony that inward conflict caused
-me. I said to myself, Am I mad that I do not
-know who I am? What has happened to kill
-in me the power to recollect? What has
-happened to extinguish the vision in the eyes
-of my mind? All is black! I remember
-nothing down to the hour of my waking in
-this cabin; but since then everything that has
-happened, everything that has been said I
-remember. I can repeat the conversation of
-Alphonse, I can describe the appearance of
-his uncle and of the man who accompanied
-him; yes, and I can also describe accurately<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span>
-the face that I yesterday viewed in the glass
-which the young Frenchman held up before
-me. Therefore memory is not dead, neither
-can I be mad to be able to reason thus. Why
-then will not memory pronounce my name
-and give me back my past that I may know
-who I am, that I may know to what place to
-return? And I covered my face with my
-hands and wept.</p>
-
-<p>Presently my tears ceased to flow. The
-strains of the fiddle and the voice of the
-singer were silent in the adjacent cabin.
-What is there to assist me to recover my
-memory? I thought; and I turned my eyes
-upon my figure as I lay stretched upon that
-sleeping-shelf, and looked at my ringless hands;
-and then my gaze ran with wildness over as
-much as I could see of the little cabin, but no
-suggestion came. My mind seemed torpid, unable
-of itself to receive or to produce ideas.</p>
-
-<p>Somewhat later I heard a knock on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span>
-door. I exclaimed ‘Come in!’ and found that
-I had my voice again; yet there was nothing
-in the tone of it to help my memory. Alphonse
-entered and bade me good-morning.</p>
-
-<p>‘You look better, madame,’ said he; ‘do
-you feel better?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes; I feel stronger and better this
-morning.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Now, what did I tell you? Perhaps to-morrow
-you will be able to get up. Are
-you hungry?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I believe I can eat,’ I said.</p>
-
-<p>He snapped his fingers and instantly went
-out. When he returned he brought with him
-a cup of chocolate, some biscuits, marmalade
-and butter, and a boiled egg.</p>
-
-<p>‘What think you of this breakfast,
-madame, for a little brick? We have six
-hens on board, and this is the only egg this
-morning. Can you eat without help or shall
-I feed you?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I think I can eat without help if I sit up.’</p>
-
-<p>On this he put his hand into the shelf over
-my head and took several boards out of it.
-I could now sit up; he placed the tray on my
-knees and I ate and drank.</p>
-
-<p>‘You are very good, you are very kind to
-me,’ said I. ‘What return shall I be able to
-make—what acknowledgment——’ and I
-ceased eating to press my hand to my brow.</p>
-
-<p>‘Continue your breakfast,’ said he. ‘We
-will not talk of acknowledgment here. At
-Toulon you will obtain excellent medical
-advice. And now shall I tell you something?’
-added he, with a smile.</p>
-
-<p>I looked at him.</p>
-
-<p>‘You are a lady. Your accent is that of
-the English lady of birth. I cannot mistake.
-I have waited upon many English ladies, and
-can always tell a lady of title. Do I assist
-your memory when I say that you are a lady
-of title?’ Seeing that I shook my head, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span>
-continued: ‘I call you madame. Perhaps I
-should say milady, or perhaps I should say
-miss. I beg your pardon, but you have no
-rings. A lady like you will have rings. Are
-they in the pocket of your dress? I ask,
-because if you saw your rings you might
-remember.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Where is my dress?’</p>
-
-<p>‘It is here,’ and he stepped to a part of
-the cabin near the door and held up the
-dress.</p>
-
-<p>I fastened my eyes upon it, but it suggested
-nothing.</p>
-
-<p>‘Has it a pocket?’ I said.</p>
-
-<p>He felt, and answered, ‘Yes, and there is
-something in it,’ and slipping in his hand he
-brought out a pocket handkerchief and a
-purse. ‘Aha!’ he cried. He examined the
-handkerchief and said: ‘Here are two letters—“A.
-C.” Pronounce them.’ I did so.
-‘Now what do they signify?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span></p>
-
-<p>I turned them over and over and over
-again in my mind. ‘They suggest nothing,’
-I said.</p>
-
-<p>‘Patience!’ he exclaimed, and opening
-the purse he looked into it. ‘Nothing but
-money,’ he said, after examining the two or
-three divisions. ‘Here is one pound; and
-here,’ he continued, turning the money into
-his hand, ‘are two half-crowns, sixpence, and
-some pennies. Is there nothing more?’ He
-looked again, and exclaimed with a stamp of
-his foot: ‘Nothing but money!’</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">ON BOARD ‘NOTRE DAME’</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">On</span> the afternoon of this second day of my
-rescue, I found myself sufficiently strong to
-rise and repose in an old stuffed arm-chair,
-which the young Frenchman brought from
-an adjoining cabin. My limbs were weak
-and I trembled exceedingly. Nevertheless, I
-contrived to put on my dress, which had been
-thoroughly dried, so Alphonse told me, at the
-fire in the fore-part of the ship where the
-sailors’ food was cooked.</p>
-
-<p>This obliging and most humane young
-Frenchman also supplied me with certain
-toilet requisites of a homely kind indeed; yet
-the refreshment of washing my face and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span>
-hands and of brushing my hair seemed to
-give me new life. The young Frenchman
-hung his oval hand-glass upon the cabin wall,
-and when he was gone I surveyed myself.</p>
-
-<p>For a long while I could not lift the brush
-to my hair. I could only gaze and dumbly
-wonder with memory writhing sightless within
-me. I took the glass to the circular window;
-there was a strong yellow glow in the air outside,
-and the afternoon light focussed by that
-circular, tube-like window, lay upon my face.
-I intently examined my countenance, but I
-witnessed nothing that gave me the least hint
-of the past. I beheld a great quantity of
-snow-white hair, languid and lustreless dark
-eyes, the lids of which were half closed,
-hollow cheeks, a skin scored with innumerable
-fine lines, and the whole rendered repulsive
-by the stripes of stained plaister. When
-presently, having washed my face and hands,
-I began to brush my hair, many hairs came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span>
-out on the brush. I passed my fingers
-through my tresses, and my hand came away
-with a quantity of white hair in it. I sighed
-and wondered, and trembled with weakness,
-and with the miserable horror that again
-visited me.</p>
-
-<p>But now, instead of wearily thinking over
-and over again ‘<em>Who am I?</em>’ my mind was
-haunted by those two letters ‘A. C.,’ which the
-young Frenchman had found in the corner of
-my handkerchief. I uttered them over and
-over again, fancying that the initials might
-suddenly expand into the full name, for I
-believed that if I could remember my name
-I should be able to recollect everything else.</p>
-
-<p>When I had brushed and dressed my hair
-I drew forth my purse, and held it in my hand
-with my gaze riveted to it. But the black
-conflict in my mind grew too violent for my
-strength. I put the purse into my pocket
-and rocked myself in my chair, crying and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span>
-crying until you would have thought my
-heart must break.</p>
-
-<p>The Frenchman punctually brought me
-food and drink. He repeated that he was
-certain I was a lady of title; he had waited
-on too many female members of the British
-aristocracy to mistake. ‘You will see
-that I am right, madame,’ said he, and
-with this conviction his politeness increased,
-though more respectful his manner
-could not be.</p>
-
-<p>During the evening I was visited by the
-uncle, whose speeches the young man translated.</p>
-
-<p>‘You are better,’ exclaimed this large, fat,
-stolid man, who could not speak without
-nodding. ‘Take the word of Captain Regnier,
-who is not often mistaken in his opinion.
-You are better, and you will soon be well.
-But you must recover your memory before
-we arrive at Toulon, that the British Consul<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span>
-at that port may be in a position to forward
-you to your friends.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But if I cannot remember, what is to
-become of me?’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh,’ he answered, ‘that will be the
-affair of the British Consul. Why should not
-a Consul earn his salary? These gentlemen
-have very easy times.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It is settled,’ said Alphonse, ‘that you
-are English. It will be the British Consul’s
-business to find out all about you.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But if I cannot remember?’</p>
-
-<p>‘It will still be his business,’ said Captain
-Regnier, who understood me, ‘to find out all
-about you. My nephew is right. You are
-undoubtedly an English lady of distinction,’
-and he bowed to me with a strange motion of
-his bulky form.</p>
-
-<p>The conversation continued in this strain
-for some time. They then left me.</p>
-
-<p>The next afternoon the young Frenchman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span>
-persuaded me to leave my cabin for the living
-room in which Captain Regnier, his nephew,
-and the mate Hénin took their meals. The
-young man gave me his arm and conducted
-me to the living room with the grace and
-tender attention of a perfectly well-bred
-gentleman. I found myself in a cabin many
-times larger than the tiny berth I had quitted,
-yet it was a very small apartment nevertheless.
-It is necessary that I should describe
-this interior that you may be able to understand
-what befel me later on. Figure a small
-square room, the ceiling within easy reach of
-the hand, the walls of a grimy colour that
-might have been either brown or yellow. In
-the centre of the ceiling was a large window,
-or rather several windows in a frame not
-unlike those glass frames in which cucumbers
-are grown. This window, as I afterwards
-came to know, would be called a skylight.
-There was a square opening in the deck a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span>
-little distance behind this skylight, with a
-short steep flight of steps ascending to it.
-This opening would be called the hatch, and
-the deck was gained by passing through it.
-Close behind this ladder or flight of steps
-were the doors of two berths, one of which I
-occupied, and under the steps I observed a
-large cask, one end of which came very close
-to the door of my berth. Do not suppose
-that I immediately noticed these details.
-When I first entered that grimy and somewhat
-gloomy living room I took heed of little
-indeed. There was a small square table in
-the middle of the cabin and on either hand
-were rough dark fixed boxes termed lockers.
-A lamp of a curious pattern swung under a
-beam overhead. Such was the cabin of the
-brig <i>Notre Dame de Boulogne</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Alphonse brought the arm-chair from my
-cabin and placed it near the table. He then
-placed a bundle of old numbers of the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Charivari</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span>
-on my lap, and I turned the pages with
-a mechanical hand, incessantly saying to myself,
-‘What can the letters “A. C.” stand for?’</p>
-
-<p>I might know that it was a very fine
-evening by the clear crimson light that
-tinctured the glass in the frame overhead.
-The motion of the brig was easy and the
-lamp under the ceiling or upper-deck swung
-softly and regularly. I heard the murmur of
-hissing waters, and occasionally the voice of a
-man calling out abruptly echoed through the
-little opening that conducted to the deck.</p>
-
-<p>I sat alone for some time. After I had
-been sitting alone for about half an hour,
-viewing the French comic paper with an eye
-that beheld nothing, since it was for ever
-inwards turned, Alphonse came out of the
-cabin next to mine with a fiddle in his hand.</p>
-
-<p>‘Now madame,’ said he tapping it with
-the bow, ‘tell me what this is.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It is a fiddle,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Is not this a proof of memory?’ cried he.
-‘How could you call it a fiddle if you did not
-know it to be a fiddle? and in this case to
-know is to remember.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You reason well,’ I said smiling, and a
-sad smile I fear it was that I gave him.
-‘You converse as one who has been well
-educated.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I was very well educated, madame,’ he
-answered. ‘Those of our condition in England
-are not so well educated as we of
-France. We owe much to the priests. There
-are no such schoolmasters in the world.
-Otherwise I do not love priests. I am an
-infidel, and my opinions coincide with those
-of Voltaire and Volney. What is your religion,
-madame?’</p>
-
-<p>I was unable to answer him. He put his
-fiddle against his shoulder and asked if he
-should play me a tune and sing me a song.
-I begged him to do so and forthwith he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span>
-played and sang. He sang some merry
-French rhymes and the air was very lively
-and pretty.</p>
-
-<p>Hardly had he ended his song when a lad
-with a dirty face and a quantity of brown
-hair hanging over his eyes came shambling
-down the stairs, bearing a large teapot and a
-dish of fried ham. Alphonse surveyed him
-with disgust, and withdrew to his cabin to put
-away his fiddle. The boy prepared the table
-for a repast that I afterwards understood was
-called supper by the Frenchmen. He lifted
-the lid of one of the large dark fixed boxes
-and brought out some plates and cups and
-saucers which he placed upon the table. He
-breathed hard and idled in his business of
-furnishing the table that he might stare at
-me. The meal, when ready, consisted of tea,
-ham, large brown biscuits, marmalade, and a
-great piece of cold sausage. Alphonse returned
-and stood looking at the table.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span></p>
-
-<p>‘This would not do for an English milord
-to sit down to,’ said he, ‘it would make him
-swear, and certainly your English milord
-knows how to swear. I should not like to
-wait upon company at such a table as this.
-But it is the sea—that sea which the English
-people love, but about which they know less
-than the French, though they talk much of
-their dominion maritime. Is there nothing
-on the table,’ he added with a comprehensive
-gesture of the hand, ‘that gives you an idea,
-madame?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Nothing.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Can you pronounce the names of what
-you see?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes.’</p>
-
-<p>‘How droll! how incredible! <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Mon Dieu</i>,
-what a thing is the human intelligence!
-Because one little nerve or cell in the brain
-perhaps is wrong,’ here he tapped his forehead,
-‘all is gloom. It is like turning off the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span>
-gas. You go into a corner downstairs, you
-move a key no longer than that, and a
-great hotel of seventy bedrooms and thirty
-sitting-rooms is instantly plunged in darkness.’</p>
-
-<p>He was interrupted by the arrival of his
-uncle, who, pulling off his red cap, gave me a
-bow and seated himself. I drank a cup of
-the tea; there was no milk, yet I found the
-beverage refreshing. I also ate some biscuit
-and marmalade. The conversation was all
-about myself. Captain Regnier’s speeches
-were translated by Alphonse, and my mind
-was stimulated by what was said. I found
-myself capable of asking questions; but few
-were the questions I could find to ask. I
-had nothing to base them upon save the story
-of my rescue from an open boat, as it had
-been related to me, and the Frenchman had
-nothing more to tell me than that she was a
-boat with two masts.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Was I alone in her?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh yes, you were alone,’ answered
-Alphonse.</p>
-
-<p>‘How is it possible that I should be alone
-in an open boat?’ I exclaimed.</p>
-
-<p>‘It was a pleasure-boat,’ said Captain
-Regnier; ‘without doubt you sailed on an
-excursion from some port, and were blown
-away to sea.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But alone!’ I cried.</p>
-
-<p>‘You were alone, madame,’ said Alphonse,
-and, eagerly addressing his uncle as though a
-fine idea had occurred to him, he exclaimed;
-‘Could you not tell by the build of the boat
-what her nationality was?’</p>
-
-<p>Captain Regnier shrugged his shoulders
-until his ears were hidden. ‘What is there
-of nationality in a boat of that size?’ he
-answered. ‘The boats of France, of England,
-of Europe in general—are they not very
-much alike—especially in the dark?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span></p>
-
-<p>‘How long will it take you to arrive at
-Toulon?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p>Again Captain Regnier, when this inquiry
-was translated, shrugged his shoulders and
-answered that it was a question for the wind.</p>
-
-<p>‘I will fetch the chart,’ said Alphonse,
-‘and madame shall remark our situation for
-herself.’</p>
-
-<p>He arose and walked to the forward part
-of the living room. I had supposed that
-that part was wholly walled off from the
-other portion of the ship. But the young
-Frenchman, putting his hand upon a ring in
-the middle of the wooden wall, drew open a
-sliding door. Captain Regnier said in broken
-English: ‘My cabin is there.’</p>
-
-<p>In a few minutes Alphonse returned with
-a large map or chart, which he unrolled upon
-a part of the table that he cleared to receive
-it. It was too dark, however, to read the
-small print on the chart, and Captain Regnier,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span>
-breathing short and heavily with the exertion
-of moving his vast shapeless form, lighted the
-lamp. My feebleness would not suffer me to
-rise and bend over the chart, and perceiving
-this the two Frenchmen held open before me
-the wide sheet of cartridge paper.</p>
-
-<p>‘There,’ said Captain Regnier, pointing to
-a part of the chart with a large fat forefinger
-on which glittered a thick silver ring, ‘there,’
-said he, ‘is the situation of <i>Notre Dame de
-Boulogne</i> at the present moment.’</p>
-
-<p>‘That point of land,’ exclaimed Alphonse
-after translating, ‘is Finisterre. The brick
-then is off Finisterre. Does the name of
-Finisterre give you any ideas?’</p>
-
-<p>I continued to think, with my eyes rooted
-to the chart, and then I answered, ‘None.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Here is Toulon,’ said Captain Regnier,
-‘and this is the course of the vessel to that
-port,’ and he ran his fat finger down the
-chart, past the coast of Spain and through<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span>
-the Straits of Gibraltar to the Gulf of
-Lyons.</p>
-
-<p>‘It is a long way to Toulon,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes,’ answered Alphonse, ‘it is a voyage.’</p>
-
-<p>Captain Regnier addressed his nephew.
-‘Superb! Admirable!’ cried the young Frenchman.
-‘Ah, my uncle is a clever man! What
-do you think he proposes? That you shall
-look at the coast of England and read the
-names upon it, and if you are an English lady
-who, as my uncle says, has been blown away
-in a pleasure-boat from a port in England,
-why——’ and with great excitement he pulled
-the end of the chart out of his uncle’s hand,
-rolled it up until only that portion which contained
-the English Channel was left open, and
-then placed the chart thus rolled up upon
-my knees.</p>
-
-<p>I looked, and the two Frenchmen stood
-viewing me. I trembled with eagerness and
-fear, for I thought to myself, ‘Here may be the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span>
-spark that will flash up the whole of the
-blackened galleries of my memory—and yet
-it may not be here!’ and shiver after shiver
-ran through me as I looked.</p>
-
-<p>‘Read aloud, madame; read aloud,’ exclaimed
-Alphonse.</p>
-
-<p>I read aloud; name after name I pronounced,
-taking the towns one after the other,
-from the Thames to the Land’s End, and then
-with trembling finger and whispering lips I
-traced the coast on the western side, even to
-the height of Scotland; and then I continued
-to read down on the eastern coast until I came
-to the River Thames.</p>
-
-<p>‘Ah, my God! my God!’ I cried, and I
-hid my eyes and sobbed. The chart rolled
-from my knees on to the deck.</p>
-
-<p>‘Patience,’ exclaimed Captain Regnier.
-‘The memory will return. Give her some
-wine, Alphonse.’</p>
-
-<p>I drank, but though I recovered my com<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span>posure
-there had happened such a deadly
-struggle within me, so fierce and rending a
-conflict—betwixt, what shall I say? the spirit,
-shall I call it, grappling with eyeless memory?—that
-I lay back in my chair, prostrated, incapable
-of speech. And how am I to convey
-to you, who are following my story, the effect
-produced by the words I read—by the names
-of the towns I read aloud—upon my mind?
-This was the difficulty I foresaw when I undertook
-to relate my experiences. But let me do
-my best. The effect was this: the names I
-uttered—that is to say, the names of those
-towns which I had heard of; for some little
-places which I had never heard of were marked
-upon the chart—the names, then, of places
-which I had heard of and known sounded as
-familiarly to my ear as my own name would
-have sounded before my memory went. But
-that was all. I could associate no ideas with
-them. They presented no images. They were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span>
-perfectly familiar <em>sounds</em> and no more. Though
-the chart was of French, or at all events of
-foreign manufacture, all names in Great Britain
-were printed as they are spelt by us. Therefore
-I could not console myself with reflecting
-that the words I had read were spelt in the
-French way, and without suggestion to one
-whose memory was gone. No, every word
-was in English. Often have I since wondered
-whether Piertown was included in that chart.
-Probably it was not. So insignificant a place
-would not be deemed worth marking down.</p>
-
-<p>‘The lady is undoubtedly English,’ said
-Captain Regnier to his nephew. ‘Only a
-native of her country could pronounce its
-tongue as she does.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I am not so sure of that,’ answered
-Alphonse. ‘I have known Germans and
-Danes, and I have known Dutchmen and
-Swedes who have spoken English as well as
-madame. Uncle, I know a thing or two. Be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span>
-a waiter and you will learn much to astonish
-you. But I agree that she is an Englishwoman,
-yet not because she speaks English
-well. Her style is English, and you will find
-that she is a lady of rank.’</p>
-
-<p>This conversation I was able to imperfectly
-follow. I felt too ill, too miserably sick at
-heart to sit in that cabin conversing, and
-begged Alphonse to conduct me to my berth.
-He did so with the same gentleness and
-courteous attention with which he had led
-me from it. Before leaving me he said, ‘If it
-is fine to-morrow I shall have the pleasure to
-take you on deck. The fresh air will do you
-a great deal of good. And, who knows? your
-memory doubtless left you while you were in
-the boat. It is, therefore, in the sea, and when
-you look at the sea it may come up to you
-out of it.’</p>
-
-<p>I enjoyed some hours’ sleep that night and
-awoke refreshed and stronger. I tried to re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span>member
-if I had dreamt. Before I fell asleep
-it entered my head to fancy that if I dreamt of
-even a little bit of my past—that even if in a
-vision, the merest corner of the black curtain
-would rise to enable me to catch a glimpse of
-what was behind when I awoke—then by remembering
-<em>that</em> I should end in remembering
-all. But when I tried to think if I had dreamt
-I found that my slumber had been without
-visions. I dwelt upon those dark hours of
-sleep, but they had been dreamless, and there
-was nothing to evoke.</p>
-
-<p>It was a fine bright morning. The vessel
-was sailing along almost upright, with a
-regular succession of floating falls and risings
-of that hinder part of her in which my berth
-was situated. The glory of the ocean morning
-was upon the waters; they flashed in
-blueish silver windily, and the dazzle rising
-off them streamed in trembling splendour
-through the porthole, and filled the little<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span>
-coarse and homely berth with ripples of
-lustre.</p>
-
-<p>Alphonse brought me some soup, biscuit,
-and a new-laid egg from the hencoop in which
-were stocked the few hens which the brig
-carried. When I had finished the repast I
-arose and dressed myself, and entered the
-cabin or living-room, where sat Alphonse
-playing the fiddle, whilst the mate, Hénin,
-seated on one of the chests or lockers, with
-half a tumbler of claret in one hand and a
-biscuit in the other, kept time by nodding.</p>
-
-<p>‘Very good, indeed, madame; very good,
-indeed!’ cried Alphonse, putting his fiddle
-down and clapping his hands. ‘I did not
-believe you would get up until the afternoon.
-Come! you are better, and you will be well
-before we arrive at Toulon, where you will
-find your memory waiting for you.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I do not understand,’ exclaimed the
-fierce-looking mate Hénin, staring at me with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span>
-gleaming eyes, though he addressed Alphonse
-and spoke in French, ‘why it is that the lady
-does not remember. Can she recollect yesterday?
-Undoubtedly,’ he exclaimed with a
-savage gesture. ‘Then the brain that can
-recall yesterday should be able to bring back
-as many yesterdays as it needs. Let the
-lady try, and she will remember.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Bah!’ said Alphonse. ‘Do not mind
-this man,’ said he. ‘He does not understand
-English, and I can say what I like. Do not
-suppose him fierce because he looks so. He
-has a tender heart, and weeps easily. Yet
-there is not a more excellent sailor in the
-French marine; at least my uncle says so,
-and my uncle is a very clever man. Shall I
-now conduct you on deck?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I should like to go on deck,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Let me see; you will want a chair. You
-are not yet able to stand long or walk very
-far, and you have no covering for your head.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span></p>
-
-<p>I put my hand to my hair and exclaimed,
-‘Was I without covering to my head when
-you found me?’</p>
-
-<p>‘No. You wore a straw hat. It was
-crushed by the fall of the mast. When the
-sailors raised you to bring you on board, the
-hat fell off, and they left it in the boat. One
-of the men in the bad light saw a dark mark
-upon the straw, and he said it might be
-blood.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It was a straw hat?’ said I. ‘A straw
-hat?’ and I mused until I began to <em>think</em>
-myself into one of those black and frightful
-conflicts of mind which had before prostrated
-me with their unspeakable anguish. I
-checked the horrible internal struggle by
-forcing myself to speak, and so diverting my
-thoughts.</p>
-
-<p>‘What is there that I can wear to protect
-my head?’</p>
-
-<p>The mate Hénin, who continued to stare<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span>
-at me with fiery eyes, said, ‘What does the
-lady say?’ Alphonse explained. ‘Wait,’ cried
-Hénin fiercely, and, putting down his glass
-and biscuit, he went to the ring in the forward
-wall of the cabin, slided the door open,
-and disappeared. In a minute he returned
-with a long cloak hanging over his arm. He
-ran his eye over my figure, then held up the
-cloak to compute its size. It was a dark
-green cloak, of a very monkish pattern; it
-had a large hood, and was comfortably lined
-with some sort of delicate fur.</p>
-
-<p>‘Let the lady wear this,’ exclaimed the
-man. ‘It is almost new, and therefore clean.
-She is welcome to it,’ and he flung it into the
-outstretched hands of Alphonse, and, with a
-fierce countenance, resumed his seat.</p>
-
-<p>I put on the cloak; it was loose, and
-completely enveloped me. I then drew the
-hood over my head, and, assisted by the
-young Frenchman, painfully ascended the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span>
-steep steps and gained the deck. The first
-sweep of the fresh sunlit wind almost overpowered
-me; I reeled and closed my eyes,
-but this swooning sensation speedily passed.</p>
-
-<p>The huge fat figure of Captain Regnier
-stood near the wheel; Alphonse called to him
-to give me the support of his arm until the
-chair was brought on deck. After the comparative
-gloom of the cabin the brilliant
-morning sunshine nearly blinded me, and for
-some while I was forced to keep my eyes half
-closed. In a few moments Alphonse came up
-the stairs with the arm-chair, which he placed
-in the sunshine, but in a part of the deck that
-was sheltered from the wind by the box or
-hood that was fitted over the little hatch that
-conducted to the cabin. And now, my sight
-having grown used to the dazzle, I looked
-about me.</p>
-
-<p>I found myself on the deck of a small
-vessel, whose shape resembled that of a box<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span>
-rather than that of a ship. She had two
-masts, across which were stretched sheets of
-patched and discoloured canvas. On the
-top of the hinder mast was a small red
-streamer, surmounted by a little brass ship
-that shone like a ray of white fire in the air
-as it pointed with its red streamer attached
-directly in the path along which the brig
-was being steered. The planks of the deck
-were dark, and every object that the eye
-rested upon suggested dirt and neglect. I
-remarked a boat painted white standing upside
-down near a little wooden house like
-a sentry-box, whose roof was pierced by a
-chimney from which a trail of dark smoke
-was blowing over the bows. I gazed earnestly
-at that boat; it seemed a familiar object
-to me; all else was strange—the tall masts,
-the wide-spread sails, the straight black lines
-of rigging, the dingy green paint of the bulwarks,
-the twenty details of rope hanging in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span>
-coils, of pumps, of skylight, and I know not
-what else, for how should a woman be able
-to give names to the strange furniture of the
-sea? All else was new. I searched my
-dark mind, and the picture of this brig sailing
-along with the wind blowing over her
-stern into her dingy wings was as novel
-as though she were the only vessel in the
-world, and I was beholding her for the first
-time.</p>
-
-<p>But the boat seemed familiar. I could
-not take my eyes off it for some minutes.
-Why should this be? I asked; and then my
-sightless memory began to struggle, and I
-addressed the young Frenchman, who stood
-at my side, for the relief to be found in
-speech.</p>
-
-<p>‘I seem to have seen that boat before.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Impossible, madame.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What does the lady say?’ exclaimed
-Captain Regnier, who leaned against the bul<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span>warks
-with his hands in his pockets opposite
-me.</p>
-
-<p>Alphonse repeated my words. The large
-fat man pulled one hand out of his pocket to
-emphasise his speech with gestures.</p>
-
-<p>‘My uncle says no. You cannot remember
-that boat,’ said the young Frenchman.
-‘He has owned this brick twenty years, and
-the boat is twenty years old, and in all that
-time she has belonged to the brick.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Why, then, should she seem familiar to
-me?’</p>
-
-<p>He reflected, and then put his forefinger
-to the side of his nose.</p>
-
-<p>‘I think I know. We took you out of a
-boat; all your sufferings were in a boat; the
-idea of a boat has been burnt in upon your
-mind by pain and misery; and now when you
-see a boat you cry out—“Ah! surely I know
-her.” You will say that of any boat. It is
-a very good sign. I say it is a very good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span>
-sign that you should think you know that
-boat.’</p>
-
-<p>He then volubly addressed his uncle, who
-nodded, and grunted, and shrugged, and appeared
-to agree.</p>
-
-<p>I remarked two or three men about the
-deck in the fore-part of the brig. They
-were ill-clad, lean and yellow, and grim, dark
-and forbidding for want of the razor. They
-stared very hard at me, ceasing in their work
-to do so, and certainly their curiosity was
-more than justified, for I can well believe
-that I made an extraordinary figure with my
-plaistered and withered face, and white hair
-showing in the twilight of the large hood,
-and the rest of me draped by the cloak to the
-very plank of the deck.</p>
-
-<p>It was a beautiful morning, the hour about
-eleven. The ocean was of the colour of
-sapphire, and it flowed with the brig in long
-and regular lines, and here and there the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span>
-froth fitfully flashed and faded. The sky on
-the left was shaded with a high delicate network
-of cloud, but elsewhere the firmament
-was of purest blue, graced and relieved by
-widely scattered little bodies of pearl-like
-vapour, all sailing our way. The wind was
-sweet and mild, and now every breath that
-I took of it seemed to give me a new spirit.</p>
-
-<p>‘Look there, madame,’ exclaimed Alphonse,
-‘you have not yet seen that beautiful
-sight,’ and directing my eyes over the bulwark
-on the right, I beheld a stately ship, a large,
-lovely, and radiant fabric, with sail upon sail
-of the milk-white softness of sifted snow
-swelling and diminishing one above another
-to an altitude that made one think of the
-little gold buttons on the top of her masts as
-stars. She was passing us swiftly. A small
-white line of foam throbbed along the long
-red streak that rose up her side a little above
-the level of the water. Soft flames of white<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span>
-fire broke from many parts of her as she
-swept her windows and the glass upon the
-deck and many ornaments of furniture of
-polished brass into the direct flash of the
-sun.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh! that is a beautiful sight, indeed,’
-said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Does it give you no idea, madame?’ said
-the young Frenchman; then finding that I
-continued to gaze without answering him, he
-exclaimed: ‘Look now at the sea. Is there
-not something in the sight of that sea to
-make you remember? Figure land yonder,
-and imagine for yourself a town upon it.
-What sort of town shall it be? Come, it
-must be the town you sailed from in the boat
-with two masts. And see now if we cannot
-create it. It will have a pier—there will be
-sands: or say it has no pier, and the cliffs
-are <span class="locked">white——’</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Oh God, my heart will break,’ I cried.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span></p>
-
-<p>Another day and yet another day passed.
-And now I had been a little longer than a
-week on board the French brig.</p>
-
-<p>It was Sunday. The day had broken in
-gloom, and when I arose and dressed myself
-at ten o’clock I could scarcely see in my
-cabin. There did not seem to be any wind.
-The vessel was rolling somewhat heavily, and
-alternately she plunged the circular window
-of my cabin under water, and then the dusk
-turned black with nothing but a green glimmer
-where the porthole was; and then as she
-rolled away on the other side and lifted the
-little window weeping and roaring out of the
-swollen hill of green water, there was a noise
-as of the explosion of guns; but no foam flew
-about the window, whence I judged that the
-vessel was not making any progress.</p>
-
-<p>By this time I had grown accustomed to
-the motions of a ship at sea. I moved without
-difficulty, and poised myself to the slant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span>ing
-of the deck under my feet with something
-of the ease of habit. When I had dressed
-myself on this Sunday morning I put on the
-cloak that the mate Hénin had lent me,
-and entered the little state cabin or living
-room. The young Frenchman, Alphonse, sat
-at the table with an open volume before him.
-He looked up as I approached.</p>
-
-<p>‘Well,’ said he, ‘is it as bad as you
-feared?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes,’ I answered; ‘if my hair goes on
-falling out as it now does, I shall be bald
-before we arrive at Toulon.’</p>
-
-<p>He smiled and said: ‘Oh no! You have
-a great deal of hair. Many ladies have I
-seen, but never one with such abundance of
-hair as you.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I am losing it fast.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It will grow again. It is not as if you
-were very old.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Very old!’ I exclaimed, ‘what is my age?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span>
-What do you think it is? Tell me. I
-earnestly wish to guess.’ Then, observing a
-certain expression to enter his face, I added
-with vehemence: ‘Do not attempt to flatter
-me. Tell me exactly what you believe my
-age to be. Even out of <em>that</em> may come an
-idea to me.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It would not be fair to you to guess,’ said
-the young man, with the little French smirk
-that had entered his face swiftly fading out of
-it; ‘look how your forehead is bound up!
-Figure yourself in good health—your face
-entirely visible—<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">bien coiffée</i> besides—but you
-ask me for the truth, and I will tell you what
-I suppose. You are, madame, about forty-five
-years old.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It may be so,’ I answered, and my head
-sank, and for some moments my senses seemed
-to leave me, so benumbing was the bewilderment
-that possessed me as I tried to think,
-wondering why I could not remember my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span>
-age, wondering why I could not remember
-my name, wondering whether the sable curtain
-before which the hand of calamity had
-placed me would ever rise.</p>
-
-<p>‘The French,’ said Alphonse, ‘are hair-dressers
-in perfection. There is a hair-dresser
-of genius at Toulon. He is my friend. I
-will speak to him, and it will be strange if he
-does not possess the secret of preventing your
-hair from falling out.’ He closed his book
-and continued: ‘I believe you will not much
-longer require to wear that plaister, yet I
-would advise you to keep it on until you are
-able to consult a physician. A friend of mine
-at Toulon is an excellent doctor. I will speak
-to him about you. But how gloomy—how
-gloomy is this day! I hope there will
-not be a storm. Would you like to go on
-deck?’</p>
-
-<p>I mounted the steps and looked about me.
-The scene of ocean was indeed a melancholy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span>
-one. The sea was running in large heaps of
-ugly green, and there was not a breath of air
-to wrinkle the polished slopes. The sky was
-a wide and sullen shadow of grey, nowhere
-broken, and the sweeping folds of the water
-worked and throbbed all round the base of
-that mighty stretch of shadow as though
-they washed the foot of a vast circular wall.
-The vessel rolled from side to side, and at
-times her canvas slapped the mast with a
-noise like a sudden clap of thunder. At a
-distance lay a ship rigged as ours was. She
-had very little canvas set, but what she
-showed was white, and it glared out like the
-breaking head of a sea as she swayed her
-masts.</p>
-
-<p>Mate Hénin was on deck. He stood at
-the bulwark, and supported his rocking figure
-by holding a rope, and the scowl upon his
-face as he ran his gleaming eyes over the sea
-was as dark as the scowl upon the sky.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span></p>
-
-<p>‘How is this weather to end?’ called
-Alphonse to him.</p>
-
-<p>‘In wind,’ he answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Will it be a fair wind?’</p>
-
-<p>‘The devil alone knows. But better a
-hurricane than this.’ He uttered a malediction.
-‘Is it to be Toulon with us? Or is it
-to be six months of the Bay of Biscay? Are
-we to run short of water and provisions? I
-am no oyster, I. Give me a hurricane sooner
-than six months of the Bay of Biscay in this
-tumbling shell.’ He uttered another malediction,
-and scowled even yet more fiercely as
-he looked up at the sky and then around
-him.</p>
-
-<p>Alphonse translated his speech with a
-smile. ‘Do not mind him,’ he exclaimed; ‘he
-has a tender heart and no man sheds tears
-more easily.’</p>
-
-<p>It began to rain and I returned to the
-cabin. I removed the cloak, seated myself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span>
-on a locker and gave myself up to thought.
-If I could not remember who I was, what
-was to become of me? When this brig
-arrived at Toulon whither should I proceed
-for shelter and protection? Captain Regnier
-had spoken of the British Consul; but I was
-a stranger to the British Consul. I had
-nothing whatever to communicate to him
-about my past, saving that I was found far
-out at sea in a little sailing-boat, and rescued
-by the people of the brig <i>Notre Dame de
-Boulogne</i>. Would he house me or elsewhere
-find shelter and food for me until he had discovered
-who I was? But how would he be
-able to discover who I was? And when he
-found that inquiry was futile would he go on
-sheltering and protecting me? My thoughts
-filled me with terror. I was ignorant of the
-duties of a Consul, and I could not understand
-that there might be anything to hope
-or to expect from him. Then, again, my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span>
-memory being gone, I was as much at fault
-when I reasoned forwards as when I directed
-the eyes of my mind backwards. I could
-not conceive, for instance, that on my landing
-at Toulon, and representing my dreadful and
-helpless condition to the British Consul, he
-would take steps to send me home, because
-I had no imagination of home. I could not
-positively affirm that I was English; I was in
-the condition of a mute—nay, I was far worse
-off than a mute, because a mute has his
-memory, and can express what is in his mind
-by writing or by dumb show; whereas I had
-nothing to tell. I could speak, and the words
-I pronounced were English; but that was all.
-However my tale might run, it would be
-without meaning: and when I thought of
-myself as landing at Toulon, of arriving at a
-place where I had not a friend—though if
-there had been twenty friends there I should
-not have remembered them—when I thought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span>
-of the few shillings my purse contained, that
-all the wearing apparel I possessed was upon
-me, that I should not be able to say who I
-was, where I came from, in what part of the
-world my home was situated—when I thought
-thus I trembled in every limb, my heart felt
-cold as stone, and I strove to ease the agony
-of my mind by weeping; but no tears flowed.
-I had wept so often of late throughout the
-days, and in the dark hours of the nights, that
-the source of my tears seemed to have been
-dried up.</p>
-
-<p>The good-natured Alphonse, observing the
-dreadful and insupportable misery in my face
-and posture, thought to cheer me up; he sat
-beside me, entreated me not to fret, and
-spoke cheerfully of the future. But my inward
-anguish was too extreme to suffer me
-to listen to him, and after awhile he withdrew
-to his cabin and played somewhat
-stealthily upon his fiddle, thinking, perhaps, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span>
-could not hear him, yet wishing to divert
-himself.</p>
-
-<p>Shortly before the cabin dinner hour, that
-is to say, a little before one o’clock, there was
-a sudden commotion on deck, a noise of ropes
-hastily flung down, the sounds of men running
-about, accompanied by Captain Regnier’s
-bull-like bawlings. In a few minutes I heard
-a strange hissing, and the vessel leaned over
-and continued to lean down until she had
-arrived at so sharp an angle that I was only
-saved from sliding off the locker by pressing
-at the whole length of my arms against the
-table. The shouts of the men on deck were
-confused and incessant. Every man seemed
-to be roaring out orders on his own account.
-There was likewise an alarming noise of canvas
-violently shaken. The vessel was plunging
-heavily, and every now and then she received
-a blow from a sea that thrilled through
-her as a house shakes when a loaded van is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span>
-passing the door, and every blow was followed
-by a fierce noise of seething like the sound of
-water poured on fire.</p>
-
-<p>The young Frenchman’s cabin door
-opened and Alphonse crawled out on his
-hands and knees. He climbed up the slope
-of the deck to the side of the table at which
-I sat, and gazed at me with an ashen countenance.</p>
-
-<p>‘This is terrible!’ he cried.</p>
-
-<p>‘What has happened?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘A frightful storm has burst upon us!’ he
-answered. ‘Blessed Virgin! why does not
-the brick lift herself out of the water?’ and
-here he made the sign of the Cross upon his
-breast, which led me to suppose that, like
-many other Frenchmen, and like many other
-people who are not Frenchmen, Alphonse was
-an infidel only in fine weather.</p>
-
-<p>We remained seated, hearkening with terrified
-ears to the uproar on deck and to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span>
-thunderous beating of the sea against the
-little vessel. After some while the brig grew
-more upright, the halloaing above ceased,
-and there was nothing to be heard save the
-creaking of the old structure as it pitched
-and wallowed, and a subdued noise of angry,
-raving, foaming waters.</p>
-
-<p>The light in the hatchway was eclipsed,
-and the immense mass of Captain Regnier
-descended the steps. His coat was streaming,
-and on his gaining the cabin he pulled
-off his sodden red cap and flung it with a
-furious gesture into a corner.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh, uncle, what is the matter?’ cried
-Alphonse, clasping his hands.</p>
-
-<p>‘Matter!’ answered Captain Regnier,
-‘why here is a dead foul wind blowing strong
-enough, if it lasts for twenty-four hours, to
-lose us every league we have gained in the
-last three days.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Is there any danger?’ asked Alphonse.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span></p>
-
-<p>The large fat man eyed him in silence for
-a moment, then, pulling a big silver watch
-from the waistband of his trousers, he roared
-out: ‘Let us dine or there will be plenty of
-danger.’</p>
-
-<p>This said he ascended the steps until his
-head was in the air above the cover, and
-having delivered himself of a bull-like shout
-he returned, pulled off his great overcoat, and
-seated himself in his shabby velveteen jacket.</p>
-
-<p>‘But you will tell me if there is any
-danger?’ said Alphonse.</p>
-
-<p>‘I will tell you nothing until I have
-dined,’ answered Captain Regnier.</p>
-
-<p>The young man sat with a white face
-viewing his uncle wistfully. There was expression
-enough in the fat Frenchman’s stolid
-face to reassure me; moreover, I could not
-suppose that he would think of his dinner
-and apparently of nothing but his dinner
-in a time of danger. Yet, had he informed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span>
-Alphonse that the brig was in peril I should
-have listened to the news with indifference.
-My dejection was heart-crushing. I was
-wretched to the inmost recesses of my spirit
-with the despair that comes of hopelessness,
-and never before had I felt so lonely.</p>
-
-<p>The brig’s movements were horribly uncomfortable.
-It was blowing very hard and
-the sea was growing. I do not know whether
-the vessel was sailing—that is to say, whether
-she was making any progress through the
-water—but they were steering her so as to
-cause her side to form an angle with the
-gulfs of the foaming billows, and the dance of
-the light structure was as though she must
-at any moment go to pieces.</p>
-
-<p>Despite the jerky, convulsive, dislocating
-movements, the grimy French lad who waited
-in the cabin contrived to place the dinner
-upon the table. The meal was composed
-largely of soup, and I cannot conceive how<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span>
-the youth managed. I drank a little soup
-and ate a piece of biscuit, and this with a
-small draught of red wine formed my dinner.
-Alphonse ate nothing; he continuously gazed
-at his uncle, who addressed himself to the
-meal with both hands, gradually lying back
-as he drained the contents of a large tin dishful
-of soup, and then placing a bottle half full
-of wine at his lips and emptying it, and then
-grasping a large piece of sausage with one
-hand and a whole biscuit with the other and
-rapidly devouring them.</p>
-
-<p>‘This is not a moment to think of knives
-and forks,’ said he; ‘if we are to perish let us
-meet our end well lined.’</p>
-
-<p>‘To perish!’ cried Alphonse.</p>
-
-<p>‘Bah!’ exclaimed Captain Regnier, with
-his mouth full. ‘Did you not tell me the
-other day that if I were a waiter I would
-know a thing or two? Well, I now imagine
-myself a waiter, and am talking as one. As a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span>
-waiter I pronounce that we shall perish, but
-as a sailor I say no! no! we shall not perish
-this time. There are many napkins remaining
-for you to fashion into fans and cocked-hats
-before you are drowned by shipwreck.’</p>
-
-<p>The young Frenchman’s vivacity immediately
-returned to him.</p>
-
-<p>‘It is inspiriting to even think of napkins
-at such a time,’ said he. ‘They awaken
-fancies of the hotel, the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">table-d’hôte</i>, of a
-thousand agreeable things. After Toulon—the
-deluge. You do not catch me returning
-to Boulogne with you, uncle. Give me the
-railway. I now detest the sea. Ciel! how
-the ship leaps. And remark this poor lady.
-How has the sea served her?’ He snapped
-his fingers, and extended his hand for a piece
-of the sausage.</p>
-
-<p>Both men spoke in French, but I understood
-enough of their discourse to enable me
-to repeat the substance of it.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span></p>
-
-<p>‘If this wind holds,’ said Captain Regnier,
-‘it will be the deluge before Toulon. A
-thousand thunders! To think that it should
-come on to storm dead ahead! What virtue
-is there in patience when there is no end to
-waiting?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Why not sail the ship to a convenient
-port,’ said Alphonse, ‘and wait there in comfort
-and serenity until the weather changes?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Go! you are a sot,’ responded Captain
-Regnier, scowling at him.</p>
-
-<p>The motion was so excessive that it pained
-me to sit upright. I spoke to Alphonse, who
-addressed his uncle, and the captain, going
-to my berth, brought the mattress from the
-sleeping shelf, and placed it on one of the
-chests or lockers on what is called the ‘lee
-side’—that is, on the depressed side of the
-vessel—and when he had fetched the bolster
-I lay down.</p>
-
-<p>The afternoon slowly passed away. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span>
-skylight was shrouded with wet, and the
-shadow of the storm-coloured sky was upon
-it, and in the cabin it was so gloomy that
-Alphonse told the lad who waited at table to
-light the lamp. I was not sea-sick, but the
-swift risings and fallings of the brig gave me
-a dreadful headache, and so dimmed my sight
-that I could scarcely see.</p>
-
-<p>You who read this may very well know
-the sea as it is to be experienced in large
-ships. You may have rolled and plunged
-over mountainous waves in a steam-vessel of
-vast bulk, whose cabin is radiant with mirrors
-and lamps of polished metal, and with furniture
-as sumptuous as that of the drawing-rooms
-of a palace! You have had a luxurious
-berth to withdraw to, attentive stewards
-or stewardesses to minister to you, and all
-the while you have been comforted with a
-sense of incessant progress, with the assurance
-of the pulse in everything that you touch,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span>
-in everything that you feel, that the noble
-engines are magnificently doing their work,
-and ruthlessly forcing the crushing and shearing
-stem of the powerful metal structure
-along the path that leads to your destination.</p>
-
-<p>But exchange such a ship as this for a
-brig of small burthen; exchange the brilliant
-interior of the great ship for the dingy, snuff-coloured
-living-room of a little brig with
-scarcely light to see by, and with the air full
-of the thunder of the warring without. Often
-the lamp swung so violently under the beam
-from which it dangled that I languidly
-watched to see it extinguish its own flame
-against the upper decks. There was a sickening
-sound of sobbing waters over my head,
-and there were many furious discharges of
-spray or wet upon the planks, the noise of
-which was like the abrupt fall of a terrible
-hailstorm liberated from the black breast of a
-tropical electric cloud.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span></p>
-
-<p>The afternoon passed and the evening
-came, and when Captain Regnier descended
-from the deck to eat his supper he told his
-nephew, who had hidden himself in his berth
-during the afternoon, that the weather was
-moderating, and that, though he expected
-the night would be very dark, the wind
-would enable him to make sail. It befel as
-he had predicted. By seven o’clock the wind
-was no more than what sailors would term a
-moderate breeze, and the sea was fast going
-down, though at this hour the brig was still
-plunging heavily. It was pitch dark, however,
-on deck. When the mate Hénin came
-into the cabin to fetch a warm coat to keep
-his watch in, or, in other words, to wear
-whilst he took charge of the brig from eight
-o’clock until some late hour of the night, he
-addressed a number of sentences with great
-vehemence and impetuosity to the young
-Frenchman, who, on the mate withdrawing,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span>
-informed me that Hénin declared that in
-twenty-eight years’ experience of the sea he
-had never remembered such blackness as was
-at this time upon the ocean.</p>
-
-<p>‘Would you believe it, madame?’ cried
-Alphonse. ‘Hénin swears that the very foam
-which breaks close alongside the brick is not
-to be seen. What do you think of that?—I
-will go and look at the night for myself.’</p>
-
-<p>He ascended the steps, but speedily returned.
-‘It is raining,’ said he, ‘and it is
-cold too, I can tell you. And does Hénin
-call it black? Black is too weak a word.
-I will tell you what it is like: it is like the
-blackness of a stormy night, when you look
-at it after your eyes have been fearfully
-dazzled by a flash of lightning.’</p>
-
-<p>All this while I remained extended upon
-the mattress upon the locker, covered by
-mate Hénin’s cloak, and with head pillowed
-on the rude bolster that had been withdrawn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span>
-from my sleeping-shelf. Soon after the mate
-had gone on deck, Captain Regnier came
-down the stairs. He took his seat at the
-table under the lamp, and Alphonse produced
-a box of dominos. The captain, who on a
-previous occasion had learnt that I did not
-object to the smell of tobacco, filled a strange
-pipe formed of a great Turk’s head and a
-long curved stem, and smoked. He likewise
-put his hand into an adjacent locker and
-mixed himself a tumbler of white liquor
-which, that it might not upset, he placed
-upon a small tray that was oscillating above
-the table. The two men then played with
-singular gravity, the fat man smoking with
-stolid deliberation, whilst the young man
-watched the game with impassioned intentness.</p>
-
-<p>The little brig groaned and pitched and
-tossed; the skylight glass overhead lay in
-panes of ebony, and duskily and gleamingly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span>
-reflected the figures of the two domino
-players; through the open hatch that conducted
-to the deck came the roaring and
-hissing noise of conflicting waters and the
-whistling of the wind in the rigging. It was
-raining hard; the rain-drops lashed the glass
-of the skylight. I gazed at the two men, but
-I did not know that I watched them. All
-the while I was asking myself, What can the
-letters ‘A. C.’ stand for? And I tried to recollect
-the names of women, but in vain.
-Then I said to myself, Am I English, or is
-it likely that the young Frenchman was right
-when he said that I might be a German who
-spoke English with a perfect accent, and who
-now, by some caprice of the reason cruelly
-afflicted by suffering, is compelled to speak in
-the English tongue, forgetting her own?</p>
-
-<p>Many extraordinary thoughts or fancies
-of this kind visited me as I lay watching
-those two domino players. Imagine yourself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span>
-without memory, not merely unable to recollect
-in this or in that direction: no. But
-imagine your mind without power to suggest
-a single idea to you, to submit a single image
-to you that had existence previous to an hour
-comparatively recent!</p>
-
-<p>At nine o’clock I withdrew to my berth.
-By this hour the two men had finished with
-their dominos. Alphonse replaced the mattress
-and bolster in my sleeping-shelf, and
-whilst he was thus occupied I said to him:
-‘I feel a strange horror upon me to-night.
-There is a sense of loneliness in me that seems
-to be breaking my heart.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Madame must cheer up. She will find
-her memory at Toulon.’</p>
-
-<p>‘My mind is hopelessly dark and silent.
-I have been all this evening trying to think,
-and the struggle has made me ill.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I will fetch you some brandy and
-water.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span></p>
-
-<p>‘No, thank you. What you gave me half
-an hour ago is sufficient. It is not that—I
-dread the darkness of the long night—the
-fearful solitude—oh, the fearful solitude!
-Will not Captain Regnier permit me to burn
-a light.’</p>
-
-<p>‘He is timid, and very properly timid,’
-answered Alphonse. ‘Conceive a fire breaking
-out. A fire at sea, and on such a night
-as this!’ He shuddered, and then looked up
-at the strange globular lamp that depended
-from the centre of the ceiling of my cabin.
-We conversed with the door open, and the
-lamp that burned in the living room shed
-a faint light upon the interior of my berth.
-‘But it <em>is</em> lonely,’ the young Frenchman continued
-in a voice of pity. ‘I dare say my
-uncle will not mind—at all events he need
-not know.’ He raised his hand to the lamp,
-and with a twist removed the metal bowl or
-compartment for the oil and mesh out of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span>
-globe. ‘I will fill this, and bring it back to
-you,’ said he.</p>
-
-<p>He returned after a short absence, lighted
-the wick, and turned it down that it might
-burn dimly, then screwed it into the globe.
-I felt deeply grateful, and took his hand and
-held it whilst I thanked him. He left me,
-and putting on mate Hénin’s cloak to keep
-me warm, I got into my miserable little sleeping
-shelf and lay down, grateful for, and
-feeling even soothed by, being able to see.</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">A TERRIBLE NIGHT</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">I may</span> have slept for an hour or two; but for
-the light of the lamp, I believe, I should not
-have closed my eyes in rest, so unendurable
-would my spirits have found the heavy burthen
-of the darkness of the night. I opened my
-eyes. The lamp burned dimly. The vessel
-was rolling somewhat briskly, and I seemed
-to hear a louder noise of wind than I had
-noticed before falling asleep. The creaking
-throughout the cabin was ceaseless and distracting.
-The rudder jarred heavily upon its
-hinges, and every time a billow smote it I
-felt a shock as though the brig had struck on
-a rock.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span></p>
-
-<p>On a sudden I heard a cry. It came faint
-and weak to my ears through the deck and
-through the door; but I heard it, and I caught
-the note of horror in it, and never shall I forget
-that cry! Whenever I recall it I think of
-the wailing scream of some strange wild tropic
-beast, wounded to the death and faltering to
-the edge of a river, and there sending its
-death cry into the quiet Indian night.</p>
-
-<p>The sound was re-echoed over my head,
-followed by a hasty rush of feet. A few
-moments later there was a terrific blow. The
-concussion was as though the brig had blown
-up. I heard the rending and smashing and
-splintering noises of falling masts and of bulwarks
-crushed. The brig heeled over and
-over, and yet over; one might have supposed
-that some mighty hand had grasped her side
-and was slowly swaying and pressing her upside
-down. Fortunately for me the wild and
-inexpressible slope of the vessel to one side<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span>
-laid me against the wall to which my sleeping-shelf
-was fixed, and so I could not fall out.
-Had it been the other way about I must certainly
-have been flung from my bed, when, in
-all probability, I should have broken a limb
-if not my neck.</p>
-
-<p>Whilst the brig was in the act of heeling
-over, something heavy immediately outside
-my berth gave way, struck the door, which,
-opening outwards, was not burst, though the
-blow it received might well have demolished
-the whole of the wooden wall in which the
-door was hung. I tried to get out of the
-sleeping-shelf, but the slope continued so
-sharp that I could not stir. There were many
-noises, but my cabin was situated in the stern
-of the brig, and the confused sounds reached
-my ears dully. When the vessel leaned over
-immediately after she had been struck, the
-cargo in the hold gave way, raising an
-instant’s thunder of rattling and clattering,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span>
-and shaking the whole structure to its heart.
-I strained my ears for human voices, but
-caught but a dim far-away shout or two. I
-could not get out of my sleeping-shelf, and,
-believing that the brig was sinking, I screamed
-to the young Frenchman, who I supposed was
-in the next cabin, but got no answer. I
-screamed again and yet again, but no reply
-was returned.</p>
-
-<p>What had happened? Ignorant as I was
-of the sea, how could I imagine what had
-happened? Was Captain Regnier wholly
-wrong in his calculations, and had he run
-his brig ashore? The sea was leaping
-angrily over the sloping side in which the
-little porthole of my cabin was fixed. It broke
-over the window as though the hull of the
-brig had been an immovable rock, and every
-billow roared and hissed as it fell back after
-its furious leap shattered and boiling. Presently
-the vessel regained a somewhat upright<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span>
-posture, but her movements were terribly
-staggering. She rose and fell, and rolled
-from side to side convulsively. She appeared
-to be labouring in the heart of an angry sea
-that was ridging towards her from all points
-of the compass.</p>
-
-<p>I was almost out of my mind with terror,
-and the moment the decreased slope of the
-brig enabled me to stir, I sprang from my
-shelf, and hastily putting on the few articles
-of raiment which I had removed, and clothing
-myself in mate Hénin’s cloak, I made for the
-door, too terrified to appreciate the blessing
-of having a light to see by or to guess what
-my sensations would have been had the berth
-been in darkness. I grasped the handle of
-the door, but the door would not open. I
-pushed it with all my might, but it would not
-stir an inch. I looked to see if, when I turned
-the handle, the latch shot back. Yes! the
-latch shot back, and if it depended upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span>
-handle, the door was to be easily opened.
-Something pressed against it outside, something
-that would not yield by the fraction of
-an inch though I pushed with the strength of
-frenzy.</p>
-
-<p>I continued to push and to scream until
-I was seized with faintness; my arms sank to
-my side and my knees gave way. Oh! am I
-to be left to drown, locked up in this berth?
-I cried to myself, and I reeled to the arm-chair
-and sat down in it incapable of standing.</p>
-
-<p>The noise caused by the lashing of the
-sea just outside and the sounds of cargo rolling
-about in the hold overwhelmed all that I
-might else have heard sounding from above.
-Whilst I sat panting and half-swooning a man
-cried out at my door.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh, help me! help me!’ I shrieked, and
-new strength coming to me with the sound of
-his voice, I staggered to my feet.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh my God!’ cried the voice of Alphonse<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span>
-in French, ‘I cannot move this cask. Help!
-help!’</p>
-
-<p>Then I could hear the voice of Captain
-Regnier roaring in the distance as though he
-had put his head into the hatchway and was
-crying to his nephew through it.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh, Alphonse, release me, save me, I
-cannot open the door!’ I shrieked.</p>
-
-<p>He answered in a voice of agony, but
-what he said I could not catch, and this was
-followed by a sound of furious wrestling outside.
-Another wild and frantic cry from
-Captain Regnier rang through the cabin, and
-now the words uttered at the top of his
-powerful voice reached me. They were, ‘If
-you do not come instantly we must leave you
-behind to perish.’ Again I caught a noise of
-desperate wrestling. It ceased.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh, Alphonse, do not leave me!’ I
-screamed. ‘Do not leave me to be drowned
-in this dreadful berth!’ and I strained my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span>
-ears but I heard nothing to tell me that the
-young Frenchman was outside; nevertheless
-I stood listening, supporting my tottering and
-swaying figure by holding to the handle of
-the door, for though I had heard his uncle
-call to him to hasten on deck or he would be
-left to perish, I could not believe that he
-would leave me to drown—that Alphonse
-would abandon me to a dreadful fate though
-all the others should quit the brig. I thought
-to myself, he has rushed on deck to remonstrate
-with Captain Regnier; he is now imploring
-his uncle and the others to descend
-and help him to remove the cask and liberate
-me, for I had heard him exclaim that the
-door was blocked by a cask, and I recollected
-that one immense cask or barrel had stood
-under the ladder which conducted to the
-deck; and remembering this I supposed that
-when the brig had violently leaned over, the
-cask had torn itself from its fastenings and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span>
-been hurled by the slant of the deck against
-the door of my berth, where it lay jammed,
-immovably holding the door.</p>
-
-<p>I stood listening, I say, but the minutes
-passed and I heard nothing—nothing, I mean,
-that resembled a human voice or the movements
-of men; otherwise there was no lack
-of sounds—horrible, dismal, affrighting noises,
-a ceaseless thumping as of wreckage pounding
-against the sides of the brig, a muffled, most
-melancholy whistling and wailing of wind, a
-constant rattle and roar of cargo in the hold,
-a frequent shock of sea smiting the window
-of my cabin and filling the air with a sharp
-hissing and boiling, as of the foot of a great
-cataract.</p>
-
-<p>But when, after waiting and listening, I
-began to understand that Alphonse had fled
-with the rest, that there was nobody in the
-brig to come to my assistance, that I was imprisoned
-in a cell from which I could not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span>
-break out and which might be slowly settling
-under water even as I stood, then was I maddened
-by an agony of fear and horror. I
-uttered shriek after shriek; I dashed at the
-door with my shoulder; I wept, and cowering
-to the chair sank upon it; then I shrieked
-again, and falling on my knees upon the chair
-I buried my face and lay motionless.</p>
-
-<p>I lay motionless, and after many minutes
-had passed I lifted up my head and gazed
-round the cabin, and a feeling of calmness
-suddenly settled upon my spirits. Whence
-came that feeling of calmness? Not surely
-from any faint hope that my life would yet
-be preserved, because I had not the least
-doubt that the vessel was sinking and that
-the final plunge must happen at the next
-moment or the next. The feeling of calmness
-came from the Spirit of God. From what
-other source could it proceed? But it never
-occurred to me that the Spirit of God was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span>
-present in that little berth; it never occurred
-to me to pray to Him for succour, or, seeing
-that I was convinced I was a dying woman,
-to pray to Him to make my last struggles
-easy and to forgive me for my past, whatever
-it might hold—for hidden as that past was, it
-was human, and must therefore need forgiveness.
-It could not occur to me to pray,
-because I was without memory and my mind
-was unable to suggest the thought of God.
-But as though I had prayed and as though
-my prayer had been answered my mind grew
-tranquil.</p>
-
-<p>I arose and seated myself afresh in the
-chair, and clasping my hands and leaning
-back my head I fixed my eyes on the lamp
-for the comfort of the companionship of the
-little flame in it. My intelligence was horribly
-active, but the singular tranquillity within me
-was not to be disturbed by the most dreadful
-of the imaginations which arose. I remember<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span>
-that I calmly figured the moment when the
-brig would sink, and I imagined a noise of
-thunder as the water roared in through the
-hatchways; and then I had a fancy of the
-water taking a long while to drain into the
-stoutly-enclosed berth, and of my sitting and
-watching the flood slowly rising, washing in
-foam from side to side to the rolling of the
-brig, but steadily rising nevertheless. All
-this I figured, and many more frightful pictures
-passed before my inner vision. Yet I
-continued calm and sat waiting for my end,
-supported by a strength that had come to me
-without a prayer.</p>
-
-<p>The hours passed and the brig still
-lived, and still did I remain seated awaiting
-the moment that I believed inevitable. No
-stupor was upon me: I took heed of what
-was passing. I remarked that the brig rolled
-more gently, that the seas lashed my cabin
-windows less spitefully, that the dreary pound<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span>ing
-as of wreckage smiting the side penetrated
-the fabric with a more softened note.</p>
-
-<p>At last, turning my eyes in the direction
-of the window, I observed that the gleaming
-ebony of it had changed into a faint green,
-and it glimmered now as it had glimmered on
-that morning when I first opened my eyes on
-board the brig. I knew that the storm had
-broken; but if the vessel had been deserted
-by her crew, what would daylight signify to
-me, who was locked up in a little berth, the
-sole living creature on board a wreck—as I
-<em>knew</em> the brig to be—which passing vessels
-would glance at without visiting, and which
-could not much longer remain afloat?</p>
-
-<p>I watched the disk of glass change from
-dim green into clear yellow, and whilst I continued
-to gaze, I heard a sound resembling
-the voice of a man outside. Before I could
-make sure that it had been a human voice,
-I heard it again. It was the voice of a man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span>
-calling to another. My strength returned to
-me as though I had been electrified, and
-springing to my feet I rushed to the door and
-beat upon it. I smote the door with all my
-strength with both hands clenched, and
-shrieked ‘Help! help! Save me! Release
-me!’ in notes preternaturally shrill with the
-maddening excitement of the tremendous
-hope and the desperate fears which possessed
-me. In a moment the door was thumped
-outside, and a man called out:</p>
-
-<p>‘All right! we’ll see to you—we’ll release
-you;’ and then I heard him shout in a roar
-that was even louder than the bull-like tones
-of Captain Regnier, ‘Wilkins, there’s a woman
-locked up here. For God’s sake bear a hand
-and jump on deck, and bring a couple of
-hands out of the boat to clear away this cask.
-Here’s a cask that’s gone adrift and has got
-slewed, and it is jammed betwixt the door
-and the ladder.’ The man then thumped<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span>
-again upon the door, and cried to me, ‘Are
-you alone?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, I’m alone,’ I answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Keep up your heart; we’ll soon have you
-out of it,’ he cried. ‘How long have you
-been locked up here? I cannot hear you.
-What! all night? Oh, my God! and a
-woman too, and alone!’</p>
-
-<p>A distant voice sounded in a sort of
-halloa.</p>
-
-<p>‘This way,’ cried the man outside my
-door. ‘Bear a hand, my lads; here’s a poor
-woman been locked up in this drowning brig
-all night.’</p>
-
-<p>This was followed by some hearty English
-heave-ho’s! and then a voice cried out, ‘Jump
-for a handspike, Bill!’ and several strange
-exclamations ensued, such as ‘Heave, and
-raise the dead!’ ‘All together, now!’
-‘Another heave and the waggon’s started!’</p>
-
-<p>I heard a crash—the rolling of some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span>
-heavy body—a strong English oath—and the
-door flew open.</p>
-
-<p>Four men stood in the doorway in a
-group staring into the berth. One of them
-standing a little forward was a fine, tall,
-sailorly-looking young man of a ruddy complexion.
-He wore small whiskers, and was
-dressed plainly in a suit of pilot cloth with
-brass buttons, and around his naval cap were
-two thin bands of brass. The other three
-were ‘common sailors,’ as they are called,
-rough and sturdy fellows, any one of whom
-would have been a match for the whole of
-the four or five poor, half-starved French
-seamen who had formed the working part
-of the crew of the brig.</p>
-
-<p>The young man with the brass upon his
-cap stared at me for some moments, as though
-dumbfounded with astonishment and pity.</p>
-
-<p>‘Well, well!’ he cried, ‘to think that if
-I’d been content to merely sing out to know<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span>
-whether anyone was aboard, I should have
-overlooked you!’</p>
-
-<p>‘Regular French job it seems, to leave a
-poor lady locked up alone down here arter
-this fashion,’ exclaimed one of the sailors in
-a deep growling voice. ‘Couldn’t they have
-found time to have shoved that there cask
-out of the road of the door?’</p>
-
-<p>The excitement of desperate emotions that
-had rendered my voice shrill beyond recognition
-of my own hearing had passed. The
-strange tranquillity which had visited my
-spirits during the night and possessed them
-throughout the awful hours had returned
-to me. Without agitation I extended my
-hand to the young officer, as I took him to
-be, and said to him in a quiet voice:</p>
-
-<p>‘Take me away. I have been locked up
-here all night.’</p>
-
-<p>He took my hand and brought me into the
-living-room of the little brig.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span></p>
-
-<p>‘There is no hurry,’ said he; ‘this craft is
-going to make a good staunch derelict. I am
-here to find out if there is life to be saved.
-One of you men open the door of that berth
-there and overhaul it.’</p>
-
-<p>My knees trembled and I sat down. The
-young mate ran his eye over the cabin, and,
-as though directed by peculiar oceanic instinct,
-walked to the locker in which Captain
-Regnier had been wont to keep a little stock
-of spirits and wine for present use, lifted the
-lid of the locker, and took out a bottle which
-he uncorked and applied to his nose.</p>
-
-<p>‘This will do,’ said he. ‘Simmonds, I
-noticed the scuttle-butt abreast of the main
-hatchway. Bring the dipper full of water
-here.’</p>
-
-<p>This was done. The young officer mixed
-a glass of white spirits—gin or Hollands—and
-I drank. Then searching the locker
-afresh he found a biscuit which he handed to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span>
-me. ‘This will serve you,’ he exclaimed,
-‘until we get you aboard, and then we will
-give you something warm and nourishing.’
-I ate a little of the biscuit, but it was
-dry as saw-dust and I swallowed with difficulty.</p>
-
-<p>The three sailors stood at the table gazing
-at me, and their rough weather-darkened faces
-were full of sympathy and wonder. There
-was nothing to surprise me in their astonishment.
-My right brow and the upper part of
-my nose were still wrapped up with sticking
-plaister. Over my head was drawn the hood
-of mate Hénin’s cloak, and the skirts of this
-ample garment enveloped me. My snow-white
-hair was disordered, and tresses of it
-fell past my ears on to my shoulders. And
-then I might also suppose that the agony of
-the night had wrought in my countenance
-and made of my face even a stranger mask
-than that which had looked out upon me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span>
-from the handglass which the young Frenchman
-had held before it.</p>
-
-<p>‘Can you tell me,’ asked the young officer,
-‘how many people were in this brig last
-night?’</p>
-
-<p>I reflected and gave him the number.</p>
-
-<p>‘There is no doubt,’ said he, earnestly
-looking about him and making a step to peer
-into the berth which had been occupied by
-Alphonse, and which one of the sailors had
-already examined, ‘that all hands of the <em>men</em>
-took the boat and made off after the collision,
-leaving you, the only woman aboard, to sink
-or swim.’</p>
-
-<p>‘One of the Frenchmen tried to save me,’
-I answered; ‘he had a good heart and would
-not have abandoned me, but he could not remove
-the cask, and his uncle, the captain,
-called to him to make haste and come on deck
-or they would leave him behind.’</p>
-
-<p>‘There are some berths yonder, aren’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span>
-there?’ said he, pointing to the forward wall
-where the sliding door with the ring was.</p>
-
-<p>A seaman took the ring and slided the
-door open, and the three sailors passed
-through.</p>
-
-<p>‘Pray,’ said the young officer, examining
-me with curiosity, ‘might you have been the
-captain’s wife?’</p>
-
-<p>‘No.’</p>
-
-<p>He looked at my left hand. ‘It was not
-to be expected,’ he continued. ‘I don’t love
-the French, but I believe they don’t make
-bad husbands. Were you a passenger in this
-vessel?’</p>
-
-<p>I fixed my eyes upon the deck.</p>
-
-<p>‘Where was the brig bound to, can you
-tell me?’</p>
-
-<p>‘To Toulon.’</p>
-
-<p>‘From where?’</p>
-
-<p>‘From Boulogne-sur-Mer.’</p>
-
-<p>He ran his eyes over me again but was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>214</span>
-interrupted in what he was about to say by
-the emergence of the three sailors.</p>
-
-<p>‘There’s nothin’ living to be seen,’ said
-one of them.</p>
-
-<p>‘What <em>is</em> to be seen?’ said the young
-mate.</p>
-
-<p>‘Vy, sir, in both cabins nautical instruments,
-charts, vearing apparel, Vellington
-boots, bedding, and de likes of such things as
-them.’</p>
-
-<p>‘We have rummaged the brig,’ said the
-young officer; ‘there’s nothing left alive in
-her but this poor woman. Get the boat
-alongside, men. Are you strong enough,’
-said he, turning to me, ‘to ascend those steps
-without aid?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I fear not,’ I answered.</p>
-
-<p>On this he put his arm around me and
-fairly carried me up the steps on to the
-deck.</p>
-
-<p>When I was on deck I looked round.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>215</span>
-Many large clouds floated under the sky,
-and their shadows darkened the face of
-the ocean; but in the east was a corner
-of misty sun with an atmosphere of rose
-betwixt it and the sea-line, and a delicate
-pink glittered on the brows of the
-swell as the dusky green folds rolled to the
-risen luminary. The brig was a complete
-wreck. I could not believe that I was on
-board the same vessel that had rescued me.
-There was a great rift in her deck high above
-the water, though she sometimes rolled the
-black chasm dangerously close to the sea.
-Many feet of her bulwarks on the left-hand
-side were smashed into splinters. Her top-masts
-were broken, and they were washing at
-her side, held by lengths of rope which resembled
-eels of inordinate length crawling
-overboard. The white boat that used to stand
-in the fore part of the deck was gone, and the
-sort of sentry-box in which the food had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>216</span>
-been cooked was beaten into pieces. The
-hull was indeed the most perfect figure
-of a wreck that the imagination could conceive.</p>
-
-<p>‘A pretty collision, certainly!’ said the
-young mate; ‘but these dirty old coasting
-foreigners never will show a light.’</p>
-
-<p>At the distance of about a quarter of a
-mile was a large ship. She was a far more
-beautiful vessel than the ship which had
-passed the brig, admirably graceful, swelling
-and swanlike as I had thought her. She was
-a long black ship, her sides as glossy as the
-hide of a well curried Arabian steed. So
-mirror-like was her length that the light that
-was upon the water trembled in cloudy flames
-in her sides. There was a radiant device of
-gold under the white bowsprit, and a line of
-gilt ran under the bulwarks from the radiant
-device to her stern, that likewise flamed with
-decorations in gilt. Her masts were white, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>217</span>
-she had several white boats hanging at the
-extremities of curved iron bars at her sides.
-Some of the sails were pointed one way and
-some another, that one set might neutralise
-the impulse of the rest, and the noble and
-swelling and queenly ship lay without progress,
-softly leaning and gently bowing upon
-the swell whilst her spaces of canvas of a
-cream white softness showed like a large
-summer cloud against the shadowed sky of
-the horizon. She was close enough to enable
-me to distinguish a few figures moving
-about her, both in her fore and in her after
-parts.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh! what is that ship?’ I cried eagerly,
-the instant I saw her.</p>
-
-<p>‘She is the <i>Deal Castle</i>,’ answered the
-young officer. ‘She is the vessel that was in
-collision with this brig last night. After the
-collision we hove to, for there was nothing to
-be seen, and therefore nothing to be done.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>218</span>
-It was blowing fresh. We burnt a flare
-and sent up rockets, but nothing came
-of them. If the Frenchmen after launching
-their boat were not drowned they must
-have been blown away to a distance that
-lost them the sight of our rockets. Probably
-they were picked up in the small hours.
-There was nothing to be seen of their boat
-at daybreak this morning from yonder mastheads.’</p>
-
-<p>He stepped to the side of the brig where
-the bulwarks were crushed, looked over, and
-then turning to me called out: ‘Come along,
-if you please.’</p>
-
-<p>I approached him, and looking down
-saw a large handsome white boat with five
-sailors in her, rising and falling at the side of
-the wreck.</p>
-
-<p>‘Stand by to catch hold of the lady,’
-exclaimed the young officer, and he lifted
-me over the edge of the wreck into the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>219</span>
-powerful grasp of a couple of sailors who
-received and seated me. In a few moments
-he had placed himself at the helm, and
-the seamen were rowing the boat to the
-ship.</p>
-
-<p>I turned my eyes to view the receding
-brig. How miserable, how forlorn she looked!
-The great gap in her side resembled a frightful
-wound, and the <em>pouring</em> look of the black
-rigging streaming overboard made the ropes
-look like her life-blood draining from her
-heart into the ocean. I thought of the little
-berth in the hinder part of her, of the lantern
-that might still be dimly burning, of the disk
-of glass changing with soul-killing slowness
-from ebony into dim green, and from dim
-green into the yellow of daylight, and a sick
-shudder ran through my frame and I averted
-my head, and for a little while held my eyes
-closed.</p>
-
-<p>‘I should think,’ said the young mate,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>220</span>
-clearly guessing what was passing in my mind,
-‘that your escape will be the narrowest on
-record.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I shall remember that I owe my life to
-you,’ I answered, keeping my gaze downwards
-bent; for now the morning light had grown
-strong, and I could not bear that my face
-should be seen. I hung my head and raised
-my hand to the hood of the cloak, but the
-hood was as far forward as it would sit. However,
-the distance to be measured was short;
-the boat was swept along by the vigorous
-strokes of the seamen, and the young officer
-was too busy in manœuvring to run alongside
-the leaning and heaving ship to address or
-to heed me.</p>
-
-<p>I perceived a group of some eight or
-ten people standing at the open rail which
-protected the edge of the raised deck in the
-sternmost portion of the ship. Their gaze
-was intently fixed upon us as we approached.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>221</span>
-Some of them were ladies. Along the line of
-the ship’s bulwarks were many heads watching
-us. A tall man in a frock coat with brass
-buttons, detaching himself from the group in
-the after part, called to the young officer, who
-replied; but their speech was in the language
-of the sea, and I did not understand it.
-But even as we approached, a ladder was
-dropped over the ship’s side; the young
-officer mounted, and then extended his hands
-to assist me up the steps, and very quickly I
-was transferred from the boat on to the deck
-of the ship.</p>
-
-<p>I was left for some minutes alone; for,
-after the young mate had helped me to climb
-on board, he descended a ladder that conducted
-to the raised deck, on which were
-several ladies and gentlemen, and, touching
-his cap to the tall man in the uniform frock coat,
-he entered into conversation, both of
-them looking towards me as they talked.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>222</span>
-A large number of persons of both sexes—sixty
-or seventy in all, I dare say—thronged
-that part of the deck where I had entered
-the ship, and whilst I stood alone they
-gathered close about me, staring and whispering.
-They were of the emigrant class, the
-bulk of them rudely and poorly attired. A
-tawny-coloured woman, with braided black
-hair and eyes of an Egyptian duskiness, after
-staring at me awhile, exclaimed, ‘Delicate
-Jesus, what a face! Shall I tell the sweet
-lady’s fortune? And, gorgeous angels! look
-how her head is bound up.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Hold yer tongue!’ cried a huge red-headed
-Irish woman, who had been surveying
-me with her arms akimbo. ‘Pace ye hay-then!’
-she exclaimed, letting fall her arms
-and talking with her hands clasped in a posture
-of supplication, ‘can’t ye tell who she
-is? She’s a sister of mercy, and I know the
-order she belongs to. Sister, d’ye spake<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>223</span>
-English? If you spake nothing but French,
-then give me your blessin’ in French. Pull out
-the blessed crucifix from the pocket in which
-you have hidden it that ye mightn’t lose it
-in the dreadful shipwreck, and bless me. I
-haven’t heard a prayer since I’ve been on
-board. Oh! sake the place for a howly
-minute only of his sainted riverence, Father
-Murphy, me confessor that I shall never see
-again—oh, that I shall never see again!—and
-bless me.’</p>
-
-<p>She spoke loudly, but in the most wailing
-voice that can be imagined, and when she
-ceased there was a sort of thrusting and
-shoving of a number of men and women to
-get near me, as though, poor souls! they desired
-to participate with the tall, red-haired
-virago in the prayer she had asked me to
-pronounce.</p>
-
-<p>But whilst I stood surveying the rough
-and eager faces with alarm, the young mate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>224</span>
-came from the upper deck and said, ‘Will
-you please step this way?’</p>
-
-<p>I followed him into the saloon—a long,
-narrow, brilliant interior with several tables
-ranged down the centre of it. A number of
-stewards were engaged in preparing the
-tables for breakfast. There were two or
-three skylights, like domes, overhead, and
-there were many mirrors and plated lamps,
-and globes in which gold and silver fish were
-swimming, and rows of pots containing ferns.
-It was like passing from a cottage into a
-castle to exchange the living room of the
-little French brig for the comfort and splendour
-of the saloon of this noble ship.</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>225</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">CAPTAIN FREDERICK LADMORE</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">A respectable-looking,</span> pale-faced woman,
-attired in black, stood at the head of a staircase
-that descended through a large hatch in
-the forward part of this saloon. The young
-officer went up to her and said, ‘Mrs.
-Richards, we have just brought this poor lady
-off from the brig that was run down last
-night. The captain requests that you will
-take her below and make her comfortable.
-She has been locked up—think of it, Mrs.
-Richards—she has been locked up all night,
-without food or drink, in the berth of a craft
-that I dare say she supposed at any moment
-might sink under her feet. When you have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>226</span>
-thoroughly refreshed yourself,’ he exclaimed,
-addressing me, ‘the captain will be happy to
-see you.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I think you had better come to my
-berth,’ said the person whom the young mate
-had called Mrs. Richards.</p>
-
-<p>‘May I ask who you are?’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘I am the stewardess,’ she answered.</p>
-
-<p>She then conducted me down the stairs
-into what I afterwards learnt was called the
-steerage. It was a part of the ship that corresponded
-with the saloon, only it was not so
-broad, and there were but two tables in the
-central passage or corridor. As in the saloon
-so here, there were berths or sleeping compartments
-ranged on either hand, but these
-quarters compared with the saloon were
-gloomy, and I do not remember how daylight
-was obtained to illuminate the place; yet
-one could see fairly well even when fresh
-from the glare of the deck.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>227</span></p>
-
-<p>The stewardess, opening a cabin door at
-the after end of the wide passage, bade me
-step in, and I found myself in a plain but
-comfortable little cabin, lighted by a large
-porthole, and furnished with two mahogany
-sleeping shelves one above the other. Upon
-a table were one or two account-books and a
-number of papers on files.</p>
-
-<p>‘Please to sit down, ma’m,’ said the
-stewardess, speaking kindly. ‘You look very
-weak and ill. Only fancy being locked up
-all night in that sinking boat! You are
-English?—— Yes, the third officer addressed
-you in English, and yet you may be French.
-Let me help you to take off that heavy cloak.
-It is a man’s cloak and a handsome one, I
-declare. I suppose you snatched at the first
-thing you could see to wrap yourself up in
-when our ship struck yours?’</p>
-
-<p>She paused in her speech to hang up the
-cloak, and then surveyed me for a few<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>228</span>
-moments in silence. I particularly observed
-that she ran her eye with an expression of
-surprise over my figure, as though she could
-not reconcile my white hair and withered
-face with my youthful shape. You will not
-require me to tell you that I was dressed in
-the plain, tight-fitting serge costume that I
-had worn when I made my last excursion
-with the boatman Hitchens. It had not
-suffered much from exposure, nor from the
-rude wear to which it had been subjected. It
-looked fairly fresh, and at any time I should
-have thought it still a wearable, serviceable
-dress.</p>
-
-<p>‘You appear to have hurt your head very
-badly,’ said the stewardess. ‘But the injury
-does not seem fresh—the plaister is surely
-older than last night?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh yes,’ I answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘But questioning you is not carrying
-out the captain’s orders, is it?’ said she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>229</span>
-cheerfully. ‘Now what shall I get you?
-What could you fancy? Would you like a
-plate of chicken and ham and a fresh crisp
-roll hot from the oven and a cup of hot
-coffee?’</p>
-
-<p>I thanked her. She then pointed to a
-little fixed washstand in the corner, and told
-me to make use of her hair-brushes and
-whatever else I might require, and she then
-left me.</p>
-
-<p>A square looking-glass hung over the
-washstand. I approached and looked into it
-and then shrunk from it. Oh! I could not
-wonder that the people in this ship had
-stared when I came on board. My white
-hair that had been thinned by every application
-of the brush fell raggedly down my
-back and upon my shoulders. My sallow
-complexion was rendered peculiarly sickly
-by the pallor that had been put into it by
-my sufferings during the night. The plaister<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>230</span>
-was no longer white, but soiled, and when
-for the second time I looked at my face, I
-again shrank back and the old blind cry of
-my heart, <em>Who am I?</em> rose dumbly to my
-lips.</p>
-
-<p>I sank trembling into a chair, and the
-words ‘Oh God!’ broke from me. But the
-word ‘God’ was no more than the echo of
-a sound, whose meaning was eclipsed. Again
-and again, and yet again, in my agony I had
-uttered that holy Name, but with no more
-sense of the meaning than the babe has
-when its tiny lips frame the syllables
-‘ma-ma.’</p>
-
-<p>After waiting a little I poured out some
-water and washed my hands and face, and
-I then brushed my hair, but I observed that
-not so many hairs came away in the bristles
-as heretofore. I seated myself again and
-looked around me, and with kindling interest
-at the little furniture in the stewardess’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>231</span>
-berth. Near me hung a framed photograph
-of two children, a boy and a girl, and close
-by it hung another photograph of a respectably-dressed
-young woman in a bonnet, with
-an infant of a few months old on her knee.
-At these things I stared, and there followed
-an inward struggle that made me frown as
-I looked, and bite my lip and pluck at my
-dress with my fingers.</p>
-
-<p>There were other photographs of grown-up
-people. I glanced at them, and at a little
-row of books, and at a work-basket, and at
-similar trivial details. But my eyes went
-quickly back to the portraits of the two
-children and the little baby, and I was still
-gazing at them when the stewardess entered,
-bearing my breakfast.</p>
-
-<p>‘Who are those children?’ I asked her.</p>
-
-<p>‘My little nephew and niece,’ she
-answered, smiling and lighting up as she
-spoke, ‘and that is my only sister with her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>232</span>
-first-born on her lap. Oh, such a little
-cherub as it is! The sweetest baby! One,
-only one did I have. He was sweeter, yes,
-even sweeter than that child,’ she added, her
-gaze lingering upon the photograph whilst
-her voice fell and her face grew grave. ‘I
-lost him three months after my husband died——after
-he died and left me to —— to ——.
-But here is your breakfast now. Make a
-good meal. I am sure you need it.’</p>
-
-<p>How much I needed it I did not know
-until I began to eat. I ate in silence, and
-the stewardess did not interrupt me by
-speech. She moved here and there, but all
-the while I was sensible that she eyed
-me furtively. When I had finished she
-said:</p>
-
-<p>‘Do you feel equal to seeing the captain?
-Or would you rather lie down and take some
-rest? You look as if you needed a long
-sleep.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>233</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Is the captain waiting to see me?’ I
-asked.</p>
-
-<p>She drew out her watch. ‘He wishes to
-see you after breakfast, and the passengers
-will assemble at breakfast in a few minutes.
-Unless you feel very exhausted it might be
-as well that you should see him before you
-lie down. He will want to know where you
-come from, so as to be able to send you to
-your friends at the first opportunity. And
-then again you will wish to see the doctor?
-You must have been badly hurt to need so
-many straps about your head.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I do not feel exhausted,’ I answered.
-‘This meal has greatly strengthened and
-refreshed me. I will sit here, if you please,
-until the captain is ready to see me.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I shall not be able to sit with you,’ said
-the stewardess. ‘My hands are very full.
-We are not long from port, and some of my
-ladies have not yet overcome their sea-sickness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>234</span>
-And then I have a sweet, poor young lady to
-see after. She is very ill of consumption. I
-fear she will not live. Her mother is taking
-her on a voyage round the world, but, like
-most people who are ill of consumption, the
-young lady has started too late. At least, I
-fear so. I have seen too many instances in
-my time not to fear so.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Will you tell me,’ said I, ‘where this
-ship is going to?’</p>
-
-<p>‘To Sydney,’ said she, pausing with her
-hand upon the door. She continued to watch
-me for a few moments, and then with a smile
-said, ‘You know where Sydney is?’ I held
-my eyes bent downwards. ‘It is in Australia,’
-said she; ‘in New South Wales. It is a
-beautiful city, and most people think that its
-harbour is the loveliest in the world.’</p>
-
-<p>She opened the door, gave me a friendly
-nod, and passed out.</p>
-
-<p>I remained seated, lost in such recent and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>235</span>
-slender thought as my mind could find to deal
-with. The ship was moving through the
-water. I could tell that by the tremble and
-hurry of light on the thick glass of the
-closed port. The movement was regular,
-buoyant, and wonderfully easy after the convulsive
-motions of the little brig. There
-was a clatter of crockery and subdued noise
-of talk outside in the somewhat darksome
-corridor, as I may call it, where some people—those
-no doubt who lodged in this part
-of the ship—were at breakfast. A baby
-was faintly crying in an adjacent cabin, but
-the compartments were stoutly divided, and
-every note reached the ear dimly. I sat
-thinking, and I thought of the terrible night
-I had passed, and of my abandonment by the
-young Frenchman and his companions, and
-also of the kind treatment I had met with on
-board the little French brig, and I thought of
-the days I had spent in her, and how the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>236</span>
-young Frenchman had said they had found
-me lying insensible, wounded, and bleeding in
-a boat with two masts; and, one thought
-leading to another, I suddenly arose and
-stepped to the looking-glass and gazed into it,
-and whilst I was staring at myself the door
-opened and the stewardess entered.</p>
-
-<p>‘I have just left the captain,’ said she,
-‘and he will be glad to see you in his cabin
-if you are equal to the visit.’</p>
-
-<p>‘There are people about,’ I answered; ‘my
-face is—this plaister——’ I put my hand to
-my brow, at a loss to express myself. I was
-ashamed to be seen, yet I was not able to
-say so.</p>
-
-<p>‘You look nicely—oh, you look nicely!’
-exclaimed the stewardess cordially. ‘Consider
-what you have gone through. How
-many would look so well after being wounded
-as you have, and then locked up in a cabin all
-night in a sinking ship? But you will not be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>237</span>
-seen. There is a staircase at the end of this
-steerage, and it opens close against the cabin
-door. Come, dear lady!’</p>
-
-<p>She was about to lead the way out when
-she stopped and said, ‘What name shall I
-give when I show you in?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I do not know,’ I answered.</p>
-
-<p>She stared and looked frightened.</p>
-
-<p>‘I have lost my memory,’ I said, and as I
-pronounced the words, I clasped my hands
-and bowed my head and sobbed.</p>
-
-<p>‘Ah, poor lady! God keep your heart!
-You have passed through a great deal surely,’
-said the kindly creature instantly, with a
-woman’s sympathetic perception, witnessing
-the truth of my assurance and understanding
-my condition, and, tenderly taking my arm in
-her hand, she conducted me out of the berth.</p>
-
-<p>She led me to a narrow staircase at the
-end of the corridor. I heard the voice of
-people at breakfast at the tables behind me,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>238</span>
-but I held my head bowed and saw nothing.
-We mounted the staircase and emerged at the
-aftermost end of the brilliant saloon, that was
-filled with the hum and busy with the clinking
-and clattering noises of passengers talking
-and lingering at the breakfast table. The
-stewardess knocked on the cabin door, and
-without waiting for a reply opened it, and we
-entered.</p>
-
-<p>Two gentlemen arose from their chairs as
-I stepped in, and the stewardess, going up to
-one of them, said quickly but audibly, ‘She
-has lost her memory, sir,’ and so saying went
-out, giving me a smile as she passed.</p>
-
-<p>The cabin into which I had been introduced
-was large and cheerful. It was furnished
-as a private sitting-room. On a table were
-a number of mathematical instruments; the
-deck was handsomely carpeted, and but for
-the movement to be felt, and but for one or
-two points of sea equipment, such as a silver<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>239</span>
-telescope in a bracket and a sleeping-place or
-bunk that closed as though it were a horizontal
-cupboard, it would have been hard to
-imagine in this fresh, shining, comfortably
-furnished room that you were upon the ocean.</p>
-
-<p>One of the gentlemen was the tall man
-who had been accosted by the young officer
-on our arrival. He was a very fine figure of
-a man indeed, above six feet tall and proportionately
-broad. His age was probably fifty,
-his complexion fresh, his eyes blue and kindly.
-There was but little of the look of the sailor,
-as we are taught by books to imagine him, in
-this man. With his grey whiskers, black-satin
-cravat, and dignified air, he might very
-well have passed for a well-to-do City banker
-or a country squire.</p>
-
-<p>His companion on the other hand was a
-short man with sandy hair streaked with grey,
-and a dry, shrewd Scotch face. He was
-dressed in a suit of tweed, and I recollect that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>240</span>
-his boots resembled a pair of shovels, so
-square-toed were they.</p>
-
-<p>‘I am happy,’ said the tall gentleman, in a
-slow, mild voice, after glancing at me with a
-mingled expression of pity and anxiety, ‘to
-have been the instrument of delivering you
-from a terrible fate.’ He placed a chair for
-me. ‘Pray be seated. My name is Ladmore—Captain
-Frederick Ladmore, and I am
-in command of this ship, the <i>Deal Castle</i>.
-This gentleman is Mr. McEwan, the ship’s
-surgeon.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Who strapped your forehead up, may I
-ask?’ said Mr. McEwan, in a strong accent
-incommunicable by the pen, and he came
-close to me and stared at the plaister.</p>
-
-<p>‘A young Frenchman who belonged to
-the vessel from which you rescued me,’ I
-answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘And a young ’un he must have been,’
-said Mr. McEwan, with a smile which dis<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>241</span>closed
-gums containing scarcely more than
-four front teeth. ‘How did he lay those
-strips on, ma’m? With a trowel?’</p>
-
-<p>‘You seem to have been badly hurt,’ said
-Captain Ladmore compassionately.</p>
-
-<p>‘No, no, captain,’ interrupted Mr.
-McEwan, ‘never make too much of a
-woman’s troubles or complaints. There’s
-nothing to fret over unless the bridge of
-the nose be a trifle indented.’</p>
-
-<p>‘How did it happen?’ inquired the captain.</p>
-
-<p>‘I was found in an open boat, lying insensible,
-with the mast of the boat across my
-face.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh! you were found in an open boat.
-By whom?’ inquired the captain.</p>
-
-<p>‘By the people belonging to the French
-brig.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Now I understand,’ said the captain. ‘I
-thought you might have been—in fact, it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>242</span>
-puzzled me to know what you were doing on
-board that little craft. How long were you
-in the open boat?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I do not know.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What sort of boat was she?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot remember.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But you surely remember how it happened
-that you were in that boat, and also
-how it happened that you were alone in her
-when rescued?’</p>
-
-<p>‘No, I do not remember,’ I answered,
-biting my lip, whilst I was sensible that my
-inward struggle and agitation was causing me
-to frown.</p>
-
-<p>The two gentlemen exchanged looks. ‘I
-need not inquire whether you are English,’
-said the captain; ‘your accent assures me
-on that head. And forgive me for saying
-that no one could hear you speak without
-being satisfied as to your station in life. Let
-me see if I can help your memory: you are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>243</span>
-a lady who in all probability engaged a pleasure
-boat to take a cruise in, and you were
-venturesome enough to go alone. The boat
-proved too much for you and she ran away
-with you. Or, dirty weather came on and
-blew you out of sight of land.’</p>
-
-<p>I listened to him with my eyes fastened
-upon the deck, greedily devouring his speech;
-but all remained dark. I hearkened and I
-understood him, and I believed that it might
-be as he had said, but I could not say that it
-was so. No! no more indeed than had he been
-telling me the experience of another of whom
-I had never heard.</p>
-
-<p>‘In what part was your boat fallen in
-with?’ he asked after a pause.</p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot tell.’</p>
-
-<p>‘How long were you on board the
-brig?’</p>
-
-<p>This question I could answer. He rose
-and took a chart from a corner of the cabin,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>244</span>
-and then sat again with his finger upon the
-open chart.</p>
-
-<p>‘Concede an average of sixty miles a day
-to that brig,’ said he, addressing Mr. McEwan.
-‘Her weather will have been ours, and we
-may take it that her average will not have
-exceeded sixty miles a day in the time during
-which the lady was aboard her.’ His lips
-moved as he calculated to himself, and then,
-passing his finger over the chart, he said:
-‘The situation of the open boat when the
-French brig fell in with her would be about——’
-and he indicated the place by stating
-the latitude and longitude of it.</p>
-
-<p>‘That’ll be clear of the Chops, captain,’
-said Mr. McEwan, ‘and at <em>that</em>, though the
-lady may hail from England, she never can
-have sailed from that country.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It certainly would be a prodigious drift
-for a small boat,’ said the captain, looking at
-the chart and speaking in a musing way. ‘It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>245</span>
-should signify a week’s drift, unless the boat
-kept her stern to it with all sail set. Perhaps
-I do not allow enough for the brig’s average
-run.’</p>
-
-<p>‘The lady may have been blown from a
-French port,’ said Mr. McEwan.</p>
-
-<p>‘What French port?’ inquired the captain,
-moving the chart that the surgeon might
-see it.</p>
-
-<p>‘I have an idea!’ said Mr. McEwan;
-‘why must the lady have been blown from a
-port at all? And why should the boat in
-which she was discovered <em>necessarily</em> have
-been a pleasure-boat? Who’s to say that she
-is not the sole survivor of some disastrous
-shipwreck? In that case she may have been
-coming home from the other side of the
-world. There’s more happened to her, Captain
-Ladmore,’ said he, speaking with his eyes
-fixed upon me, ‘than is to be occasioned by
-misadventure during a pleasure cruise.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>246</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Cannot you describe the boat?’ said the
-captain to me.</p>
-
-<p>‘The Frenchman told me that she was
-an open boat and that she had two masts,’ I
-answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Did they notice no more of her than
-that?’</p>
-
-<p>‘No. She was entangled with the rigging
-and drove along with the brig for a short
-distance. She broke away after I had been
-taken out of her, and the Frenchman let her
-go. It was a little before daybreak, and there
-was scarcely any light to see by.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You remember all that!’ exclaimed Mr.
-McEwan.</p>
-
-<p>‘I remember everything that the Frenchman
-told me,’ I answered; ‘and I can remember
-everything that has happened from the
-hour of my returning to consciousness on
-board the brig.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Would not a ship’s quarter-boat have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>247</span>
-two masts, captain?’ said Mr. McEwan. ‘Ye
-must know it is my theory that ’tis a case of
-shipwreck, and that this lady may be the only
-survivor. Who can tell?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I have known a ship’s long-boat with two
-masts,’ answered Captain Ladmore, ‘but I
-never heard of a quarter-boat so rigged.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Then the boat that the Frenchman fell
-in with may have been a long-boat,’ said the
-surgeon.</p>
-
-<p>‘I wish to find out all about you,’ said the
-captain gravely and quietly, glancing at my
-bare hands and then running his eyes over my
-dress, ‘that I may be able to send you home.
-A home you must have—but where? Cannot
-you tell me that it is in England?’</p>
-
-<p>I looked at him, and my swimming eyes
-sank. I could not speak.</p>
-
-<p>‘This is sad indeed,’ said he. ‘Did you
-ever hear of so complete a failure of memory,
-McEwan?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>248</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Oh yes,’ answered the surgeon. ‘I’ll
-show you fifty examples of utter failure in a
-book on the brain which I have in my cabin,
-and I can give you half a dozen instances at
-least out of my own experience. At the same
-time,’ he continued, speaking as though I
-were not present, ‘this case is peculiar and
-impressive. But I should regard it as hopeful
-on the whole because, ye see, there’s the
-capacity of recollecting everything on this
-side of whatever it may be that occasioned
-the loss.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Did the Frenchman find nothing in the
-boat?’ asked the captain gently.</p>
-
-<p>‘Nothing,’ I replied, ‘except a straw hat
-that was crushed by the fall of the mast, and
-stained by my wounds.’</p>
-
-<p>‘It was your hat?’</p>
-
-<p>‘They thought so,’ I answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Nothing more?’ said he, ‘merely a straw
-hat? But then to be sure it was in the dark<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>249</span>
-of the morning, and they were able to see
-nothing more.’</p>
-
-<p>He rose from his chair and took several
-turns about the cabin; meanwhile Mr.
-McEwan steadfastly regarded me. His air
-was one of professional curiosity. At last
-his scrutiny grew painful, but he did not
-relax it, though my uneasiness must have
-been clear to him.</p>
-
-<p>‘Can you give me any idea,’ said the
-captain, ‘of what became of the French
-crew?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot,’ I replied.</p>
-
-<p>‘It was barbarous of them to leave you
-on board a vessel which they believed was
-sinking, or they would not have quitted her.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I was kindly treated by them,’ I
-answered. One of them, a young Frenchman,
-endeavoured to release me that I might
-gain the deck. But he could not move the
-cask that was jammed between my door and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>250</span>
-the steps. His uncle, the captain, threatened
-to leave him behind. The young man would
-have saved me could he have procured help.’</p>
-
-<p>‘That’s how it always is in a panic at sea,’
-said the captain, addressing Mr. McEwan.
-‘I can tell you exactly how it happened with
-those foreigners. When the brig was struck
-the seamen supposed that she would instantly
-founder. They launched the boat, probably
-their only boat.’</p>
-
-<p>‘They had but one boat,’ I said.</p>
-
-<p>‘Just so,’ exclaimed the captain; ‘they
-launched their only boat, and then as they
-lay alongside they shouted to their skipper
-that if he delayed they would leave him. No
-man has a chance with a cowardly crew at
-such a time. I dare say, had it depended
-upon the French captain and his nephew,
-you would have been brought on deck and
-taken into the boat. But well for you, poor
-lady, that they did not stay to release you!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>251</span>
-They blew away in the blackness, and in such
-a sea as was running it is fifty to one if the
-boat was not capsized.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Are there no initials upon your linen,
-ma’m?’ inquired the surgeon.</p>
-
-<p>I produced from my pocket the handkerchief
-which the young Frenchman had
-examined, and handed it to the surgeon,
-saying, ‘This was in my pocket when I was
-rescued, and it must therefore be mine. The
-letters “A. C.” are upon it. My under-linen
-is similarly marked.’</p>
-
-<p>He looked at the initials, and then passed
-the handkerchief to the captain.</p>
-
-<p>‘Do not the letters suggest your name to
-you?’ said the surgeon. I shook my head.
-‘Would you know your name if I were to
-pronounce it, d’ye think?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot say.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Have you run over any names for
-yourself?’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>252</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot think of any names to run
-over,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘Ha!’ exclaimed the captain, ‘how great,
-how awful is the mystery of life, is the
-mystery of the mind!’ and as though overcome
-he stepped to the porthole and seemed
-to look out, keeping his back upon us. Mr.
-McEwan continued to scrutinise me.</p>
-
-<p>‘Captain,’ he suddenly exclaimed again,
-speaking as though I were deaf or absent,
-‘the lady’s hair is snow white, d’ye mark?
-Her hair, as we see it, doesn’t correspond
-with her figure. She’s much younger than
-the colour of her hair. She is much
-younger than the look of her face, captain.
-She’s a young woman that has been suddenly
-aged—to the sight. I can see the youth of
-her lurking under her countenance, like
-comely lineaments under a veil. As she
-recovers strength and health, her bloom
-will return.’ He turned to me. ‘When<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>253</span>
-you entered the boat in which you were
-found insensible, your hair, m’am, was
-black.’</p>
-
-<p>‘But all this is not to the point, McEwan,’
-exclaimed the captain, coming from the
-porthole before which he had been standing
-with his back upon us. ‘The question is,
-where does this lady live? Has she friends
-in England. If so, it is my duty to send
-her home by the first ship. But your
-memory,’ said he to me, ‘may return in a
-day or two, and we are not acting kindly
-in detaining you from the rest which I
-am sure you need after such a night as
-you have endured.’</p>
-
-<p>He opened the door of his cabin, and
-called to one of the stewards to send Mrs.
-Richards to him.</p>
-
-<p>‘You’ll forgive me, ma’m,’ said Mr.
-McEwan, ‘but I observe that you have no
-rings. Now I’m sure you must have had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>254</span>
-rings on when you were found in the boat.
-Were they stolen from you, d’ye think?’</p>
-
-<p>I looked at my hands and answered, ‘I
-was without rings when my consciousness
-returned.’</p>
-
-<p>‘A pity!’ exclaimed the surgeon impatiently;
-‘there might be the clue we seek
-in a ring of yours. Have ye no jewellery?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I have nothing but this purse,’ I
-answered, and I gave it to him.</p>
-
-<p>‘English money at all events, captain,’
-he cried, emptying the contents into his
-hand. ‘But what does that tell? Merely
-that English money circulates everywhere.’</p>
-
-<p>The stewardess entered.</p>
-
-<p>‘Mrs. Richards,’ said Captain Ladmore,
-‘you will please prepare a berth for this lady
-in the steerage. See that she is made perfectly
-comfortable, and the conveniences which she
-stands in need of that the ship can supply
-let her have.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>255</span></p>
-
-<p>‘I do not know how to thank you,’ I
-said in a broken voice.</p>
-
-<p>‘Not a word of thanks, if you please,’ he
-answered. ‘You have suffered sadly, and for
-no inconsiderable part of your suffering is
-this ship responsible. We must make you
-all the amends possible.’</p>
-
-<p>He motioned to the stewardess who
-opened the door.</p>
-
-<p>‘I’ll not worry you now with looking at
-your head and dressing it,’ said Mr. McEwan;
-‘take some rest first. I’ll call in upon you
-by-and-by.’</p>
-
-<p>We passed into the brilliant saloon. The
-sun was now high, and his beams glittered
-gloriously upon the skylights, and were multiplied
-in a hundred sparkling prisms in the
-mirrors, lamps, and globes of fish. Through
-the windows of the skylight some of the sails
-of the ship were visible, and they rose swelling
-and towering and of a surf-like whiteness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>256</span>
-to the windy sky that lay in a hazy marble
-over the mastheads. The stewards were
-stripping the tables of the breakfast things,
-and at the forward end of the saloon stood
-a group of ladies conversing, and looking
-through a window on to the decks beyond,
-where a multitude of the emigrant or third-class
-passengers were assembled.</p>
-
-<p>I held my head bowed, for I was ashamed
-to be seen. The stewardess took me to her
-berth, and when I had entered it I sat down,
-and putting my hands to my heart I rocked
-myself and tried to weep, for my heart felt
-swollen as though it would burst, and my
-head felt full, and my breathing was difficult;
-but the tears would not flow. Many hours
-of anguish had I passed since consciousness
-had returned to me on board the brig, but
-more exquisite than all those hours of
-anguish put together was the agony my spirit
-underwent as I sat in the stewardess’s berth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>257</span>
-rocking myself. No light! no light! Oh, I
-had hoped for some faint illumination from
-the questions which had been asked me, from
-the sentences which the captain and the surgeon
-had exchanged about me. The blackness
-was as impenetrable as ever it had been.
-I groped with my inward vision over the
-thick dark curtain, but no glimmer of light
-crossed it, no fold stirred. The silence and
-the blackness were of the tomb. It was as
-though I had returned to life to find myself
-in a coffin, there to lie straining my eyes
-against the impenetrable darkness, and there,
-in the grave, to lie hearkening to the awful
-hush of death.</p>
-
-<p>‘Come, cheer up, dear,’ said the stewardess,
-putting her hand upon my shoulder.
-‘Stay, I have something that will do you
-good,’ and going to a shelf she took down
-a little decanter of cherry-brandy and gave
-me a glassful.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>258</span></p>
-
-<p>‘They told me things that may be true,
-and I do not know whether they are true or
-not,’ said I.</p>
-
-<p>‘What did they say, dear?’</p>
-
-<p>‘They said that I was young, and that
-my hair was black before I lost my memory;
-and they said that I might be the only survivor
-of a shipwreck, and that there was
-nothing—nothing—oh! <em>nothing</em> to tell where
-I came from, where my home was, what my
-name is——!</p>
-
-<p>‘Now you must have patience, and you
-must keep up your courage,’ said the stewardess.
-‘Wait till you see poor Miss Lee.
-You will not think that yours is the greatest
-or the only trouble in this world. <em>She</em> is
-certainly dying, but you will not die, I hope.
-You will get strong, and then your memory
-will return, and you will go home, and the
-separation will not be long, you will find. It
-is not like dying. There is no return then,’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>259</span>
-said she, glancing at the photograph of the
-little baby on the woman’s knee; ‘and besides,’
-she continued, looking at my hand,
-‘whether you remember or not, you may be
-sure that you are not married, and, therefore,
-have no husband or children wondering what
-has become of you. You may, indeed, have
-a father and mother, and perhaps sisters,
-and others like that, but separation from
-<em>them</em> is not like separation from husband and
-children. So, dear, think how much worse
-it might be, and go on hoping for the best.
-And now I am going to prepare a berth for
-you, and get a bath ready. There is an
-empty berth next door, and you shall have
-it. And you shall also have what you sadly
-need, a comforting change of linen.’</p>
-
-<p>She then left me.</p>
-
-<p>An hour later I was lying, greatly refreshed,
-in the berth which the good-hearted
-Mrs. Richards had got ready for me. A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>260</span>
-warm salt-water bath had taken all the
-aching out of my limbs. No restorative
-could have proved so life-giving. It soothed
-me—Oh! the embrace and enfoldment of the
-warm, green, sparkling brine was deliciously
-grateful beyond all power of words after the
-long days which I had passed in my clothes—in
-clothes which the rain had soaked
-through to the skin, and which had dried upon
-me. When I had bathed, I replaced my underclothing
-by some clean linen lent to me by
-the stewardess. And when, having entered my
-new berth, I had brushed my hair and refreshed
-my face with some lavender water which Mrs.
-Richards had placed with brushes and other
-toilet articles upon a little table—when, having
-done this, I got into my bunk, or sleeping-shelf,
-and found myself resting upon a hair
-mattress, with a bolster and pillow of down
-for my head, I felt as though I had been
-born into a new life, as though some base<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>261</span>
-and heavy burden of sordid physical pain
-and distress had been taken from me. My
-mind, too, was resting. The inward weary
-wrestling had ceased for a time. I lay watching
-the lines of golden sunlight rippling upon
-a circle of bluish splendour cast by the
-large circular porthole upon the polished
-chestnut-coloured bulkhead near the door,
-until my eyes closed and I slumbered.</p>
-<hr />
-
-<div class="chapter">
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>262</span></p>
-
-<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br />
-
-<span class="subhead">A KIND LITTLE WOMAN</span></h2>
-</div>
-
-<p class="in0"><span class="firstword">When</span> I awoke my gaze was directed at the
-face of Mr. McEwan, who stood at the side
-of my bedplace looking at me. The cabin
-was full of strong daylight, but the atmosphere
-was tinctured with a faint rose, and
-had I at that moment given the matter a
-thought, I should have known that I had
-slept far into the afternoon.</p>
-
-<p>In spite of my eyes being open the ship’s
-surgeon continued to view me without any
-change of posture or alteration of countenance.
-He might have been waiting to make
-sure that I was conscious; he scrutinised me,
-nevertheless, as though his eyes were gimlets,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>263</span>
-with which he could pierce into my brain.
-He held a volume in his hand, but on his
-appearing to make up his mind that I was
-awake he put the book into the bunk that
-was above me, and said, ‘You sleep well.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I have slept well to-day,’ I answered; ‘I
-bathed and was much comforted before I lay
-down.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Do you ever dream?’ he asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘Never.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Are you sure?’</p>
-
-<p>‘My memory on this side of my recovery
-is good,’ I said; ‘and if I dreamt I should
-recollect my dreams. I have longed with
-passion to dream, because I have a fancy that
-my memory may return to me in a vision.’</p>
-
-<p>‘That is not unlikely,’ said he. He took
-the book from the upper bunk, drew a chair
-close to me, and seated himself.</p>
-
-<p>‘I have been looking at you in your
-sleep,’ said he, ‘and I am confirmed in my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>264</span>
-first opinion—you are a young woman. Your
-age is four- or five-and-twenty. You smiled
-shortly before you awoke, and your smile was
-like a light thrown upon your youth hidden
-behind your face. Some dream must have
-produced that smile—but the mere phantom
-of a phantom of a dream, too colourless and
-attenuated for your mind to recollect. And
-your hair! Has it been coming out of late?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I have lost a great quantity. It came
-out in handfuls, but it no longer falls as it
-did.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Your hair was black,’ said he, smiling,
-‘and very abundant and fine. Before your
-calamity—whatever it might be—befell you
-you were a handsome young woman, excellently
-shaped, with dark, speaking eyes, and a
-noble growth of hair. Take my word for it.
-And now think. Do I give you any ideas?’</p>
-
-<p>I shut my eyes to think, and I thought
-and thought, but to no purpose.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>265</span></p>
-
-<p>‘No matter,’ he exclaimed; ‘do not strain
-your mind. Take things perfectly easy. I
-have been reading in several volumes I possess
-on cases resembling yours; and here is a book,’
-he continued, ‘with some examples, two of
-which you shall hear, that you may take
-heart.’</p>
-
-<p>He balanced a pair of gold glasses on his
-nose and read as follows, slowly and <span class="locked">deliberately:—</span></p>
-
-<p>‘A young clergyman, when on the point
-of being married, suffered an injury of the
-head by which his understanding was entirely
-and permanently deranged. He lived in this
-condition till the age of eighty, and to the
-last talked of nothing but his approaching
-wedding, and expressed impatience of the
-arrival of the happy day.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What do you think of that?’ said the
-surgeon.</p>
-
-<p>I did not answer.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>266</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Do you understand it?’ said he.</p>
-
-<p>‘I understand it,’ I replied, ‘but I do not
-see what it has to do with the memory.’</p>
-
-<p>‘There is too much memory in it,’ he exclaimed
-with a dry smile; ‘but you are right,
-and I’m very well satisfied that you should be
-able to reason. Now I will read you something
-that <em>does</em> concern the memory, and you
-shall be consoled when you hear it;’ and he
-read aloud as <span class="locked">follows:—</span></p>
-
-<p>‘On her recovery from the torpor she
-appeared to have forgotten nearly all her
-previous knowledge: everything seemed new
-to her, and she did not recognise a single
-individual, not even her nearest relatives.
-In her behaviour she was restless and inattentive,
-but very lively and cheerful: she was
-delighted with everything she saw and heard,
-and altogether resembled a child more than a
-grown person. At first it was scarcely possible
-to engage her in conversation: in place<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>267</span>
-of answering a question she repeated it aloud
-in the same words in which it was put. At
-first she had very few words. She often made
-one word answer for all others which were in
-any way allied to it: thus, in place of <em>tea</em> she
-would ask for <em>juice</em>. She once or twice had
-dreams, which she afterwards related to her
-friends, and she seemed quite aware of the
-difference betwixt a dream and a reality.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Now mark this,’ continued the surgeon,
-looking at me over his glasses; and he then
-<span class="locked">read:—</span></p>
-
-<p>‘After a time Mrs. H—— was able to
-return to her home in England, where she
-passed the rest of her life happily with her
-husband. She was in the habit of corresponding
-by letter with her friends at a distance,
-and lived on the most agreeable terms
-with her immediate neighbours, by whom
-she was held in much regard on account of
-her kindly nature and charitable work.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>268</span></p>
-
-<p>‘So you see,’ said Mr. McEwan, ‘that
-the poor thing got quite well.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Is that a good book?’ said I, looking
-at it.</p>
-
-<p>‘It is a first-rate book,’ he answered.</p>
-
-<p>‘But the woman’s memory was not utterly
-gone, as mine is.’</p>
-
-<p>‘She was far worse than you,’ said he.
-‘Be of good cheer. Think of your brain as
-a theatre. The curtain has come down with
-a run, and the gentleman whose business it is
-to wind it up is drunk, or absent through
-illness. We’ll rout him out by-and-by, and
-the curtain will rise again. And now sit up,
-if you please, that I may look at your head.’</p>
-
-<p>He was abrupt and off-hand in his speech,
-with something of the wag in him, but already
-was I sensible that there was an abundance of
-good-nature and of kindly feeling underlying
-his manner. He carefully renewed the plaister
-and examined the injured brow, then dressed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>269</span>
-it with some salve and bandaged it with a
-tender hand. I asked him if I was disfigured.</p>
-
-<p>‘An excellent question,’ he explained; ‘a
-woman’s question. Go on asking every question
-that may occur to you; but do not strain
-your mind to recollect.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Am I disfigured?’ I asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘That is right,’ said he; ‘go on questioning
-me.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Let me look at the glass.’</p>
-
-<p>‘No; don’t you see that I am about
-to bandage you—so! Do not remove this
-bandage. There is something that needs to
-heal, and your young Frenchman’s sticking-plaister
-has not helped you.’</p>
-
-<p>The surgeon left me after saying that he
-would send me a powerful tonic, which I was
-to take so many times a day, and when he
-was gone I got out of the bunk, in which I
-had slept fully dressed, and going to the glass
-over the washstand looked into it. The face<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>270</span>
-that gazed back upon me was no longer the
-forbidding, the almost repulsive countenance
-that I remembered. The removal of the
-darkened and bloodstained strips of sticking-plaister
-had made a wonderful difference. In
-their place was a snow-white bandage, skilfully
-fitted. It hid a portion of the right
-brow, and descended so as to conceal the
-bridge of the nose, but it left my right eye
-visible; and when I looked at my eyes I
-observed that they were no longer leaden and
-lustreless, but that, on the contrary, there
-was the light of life in them, and the dark
-pupils soft and liquid.</p>
-
-<p>This I knew by comparing my face with
-the face with which I had awoke to consciousness
-on board the brig; but I remembered
-no other face than <em>that</em>.</p>
-
-<p>I stood for some while staring in the glass,
-recalling the assurance of the surgeon that I
-was a woman of four- or five-and-twenty,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>271</span>
-and contrasting that notion with the belief
-Alphonse had expressed, that my age was
-forty-five, and I kept on saying to myself,
-<em>Who am I?</em> and silently repeating over and
-over again the letters A. C. until, recalling
-Mr. McEwan’s advice to me not to strain my
-brain, I broke away with a sudden horror, as
-of insanity, from the glass, and went to the
-cabin porthole.</p>
-
-<p>I could see very little of the sky and sea,
-but what I saw was beautiful with the colouring
-of the rich dark gold of sunset. I gazed
-almost directly west, and as much as I could
-behold of the heavens that way was a glowing
-and a throbbing crimson, barred with streaks
-of violet gloriously edged with ruby flames.
-The sea ran red as the sky; every ridged head
-of purple broke into rosy froth. In the heart
-of this little circle of western magnificence
-formed by the porthole was a ship with
-orange-coloured sails. I watched her, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>272</span>
-thought of the young Frenchman, and wondered
-whether the crew of the brig had
-perished, as Captain Ladmore supposed,
-or whether they had been picked up during
-the darkness of the night by some vessel that
-had passed at too great a distance to be
-observed by the people of the <i>Deal Castle</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Whilst I stood thus looking and thinking,
-the door was opened by an under-steward to
-enable Mrs. Richards to enter with a tray,
-which she grasped with both hands.</p>
-
-<p>‘I thought,’ said she, smiling as she
-placed the tray full of good things upon the
-deck, ‘that you would rather have your tea
-here than at the table outside, and with your
-leave I will drink a cup of tea with you. Ah!
-now you look better. Yes, your eyes have
-cleared wonderfully; and I don’t see the
-same expression of pain in your face. And
-how much better that bandage looks than the
-ugly sticking-plaister.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>273</span></p>
-
-<p>She chatted thus whilst she gazed around,
-considering how she should dispose of the
-tray. At last she placed it in my bed, where
-it would be safe—where, at least, it would not
-slide, for there was a heave running from the
-sunset through the sea, and the ship regularly
-leaned upon it, but in motions so stately as
-scarcely to be noticeable. We seated ourselves
-by the side of the bed and ate and
-drank. She had brought cold fowl, and ham-and-tongue,
-and pressed beef, and fancy rolls
-of bread, all which, with other things, after
-the fare I had been used to on board the brig,
-were true dainties and delicacies to me, and
-particularly did I enjoy the tea with its dash
-of new milk.</p>
-
-<p>‘I had some trouble,’ said the stewardess,
-looking into the milk-jug, ‘to coax this drop
-out of the steward. There is but one cow,
-and there are many demands upon poor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>274</span>
-Crummie. But I felt sure you would enjoy a
-cup of tea with milk in it.’</p>
-
-<p>She then asked me what Mr. McEwan had
-said, and I told her.</p>
-
-<p>‘He is a clever man, I believe,’ said she.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh, if he would only give me back my
-memory!’ I exclaimed.</p>
-
-<p>‘I wonder what the captain means to do
-with you,’ said she.</p>
-
-<p>‘And I, too, wonder. Have I a home?
-Surely I must have a home somewhere? It
-cannot be that I am utterly alone in the
-world, though I am so now.’</p>
-
-<p>‘No, dear, you will not be alone. God
-will raise up friends for you until He gives you
-back your memory; and <span class="locked">then——’</span></p>
-
-<p>‘But this ship is going on a long voyage,’
-said I, ‘and if I remain in her she will be
-carrying me away from where my home may
-be.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Yes, but if your home is in England, this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>275</span>
-ship will convey you back there if you remain
-in her.’</p>
-
-<p>‘How long will it take the ship to sail to
-the place you spoke of?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Sydney. She is going to Sydney. Well,
-it may take her three months, or it may take
-her four months, to get there, and she will
-stop at Sydney for three months. We all
-hope—all of us, I mean, whose homes are in
-England—to be home by next August.’</p>
-
-<p>I turned her words over in my mind, but
-was unable to attach any meaning to what
-she said. I could not understand <em>time</em>—that
-is, I did not know what Mrs. Richards meant
-when she spoke of ‘next August.’ But I
-would not question her; my incapacity made
-me feel ashamed, and exquisitely wretched
-at heart, and I asked no questions, lest she
-should divine that I did not comprehend
-her.</p>
-
-<p>There were people drinking tea at the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>276</span>
-tables outside. I heard the occasional cry of
-a baby, the voices of children, the murmur of
-men and women conversing. Mrs. Richards
-informed me that those people were second-class
-passengers, who inhabited this part of
-the ship.</p>
-
-<p>‘Are there many passengers in all?’ I
-asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh yes, the ship is full of men and
-women,’ she replied.</p>
-
-<p>‘Where do they come from?’</p>
-
-<p>‘The ship sailed from London. The people
-joined her at the docks, or at Gravesend, from
-all parts of the kingdom.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh,’ cried I, clasping my hands, ‘if there
-were but a single person amongst the crowds
-on board—a single person who knew me, who
-would be able to pronounce my name and tell
-me where my home is—if, indeed, I have a
-home!’</p>
-
-<p>‘Well, who knows but there may be such<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>277</span>
-a person?’ said the stewardess. ‘Big as this
-world is, we are constantly running against
-friends or acquaintances. Everybody is asking
-after you. All my ladies, all the people I
-attend on, make inquiries after you every
-time I see them. There is a dear old lady on
-board, Mrs. Lee; she is the mother of the
-poor consumptive girl. Not half an hour ago,
-as I was passing through the saloon, Mrs. Lee
-left her chair and said to me, “Mrs. Richards,
-if there is anything that I or my daughter can
-do for the poor lady who was rescued this
-morning, I beg you will enable us to serve
-her. I fear she is without clothes,” said Mrs.
-Lee. “How could it be otherwise, indeed?
-Now my daughter and I have plenty of
-clothes, and the poor lady is welcome to
-whatever she wants.”’</p>
-
-<p>‘How good of her!’ I exclaimed. ‘Thank
-her, thank her for me, Mrs. Richards.’</p>
-
-<p>‘She is a dear old lady, and her daughter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>278</span>
-is the sweetest of girls. Oh dear! oh dear!
-that the hand of Death should be drawing
-closer and closer to steal away so much
-beauty and gentleness.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Is it known <span class="locked">that—that——’</span></p>
-
-<p>‘That you have lost your memory?’</p>
-
-<p>I sank my head.</p>
-
-<p>‘Why, yes. News flies fast on board ship.
-And why should it not be known? Your not
-having your memory will explain a great
-deal.’</p>
-
-<p>‘What will it explain?’</p>
-
-<p>‘For instance, your having no name.’</p>
-
-<p>‘My initials are A. C.,’ said I, and I
-pronounced the letters several times over,
-and cried out, ‘What can they stand for?’</p>
-
-<p>‘But would you know your name if you
-saw it?’ said the stewardess.</p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot tell.’</p>
-
-<p>As I made this answer the door was
-quietly rapped. ‘Come in,’ said the stewardess,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>279</span>
-and the captain entered. The stewardess rose,
-and stood as though a royal personage had
-walked in, and then made a step to the
-door.</p>
-
-<p>‘Do not go away, Mrs. Richards,’ cried
-Captain Ladmore. ‘I am glad to see that
-you are carefully attending to the lady’—and
-he asked me if I felt better.</p>
-
-<p>I answered that I felt very much better,
-and that I did not know how to express the
-gratitude which all the kindness I had received
-and was receiving had filled my heart
-with. He pulled a chair and seated himself
-near me.</p>
-
-<p>‘I have been all day,’ said he with a grave
-smile, ‘considering what course to adopt as
-regards your disposal. I should very well
-know what to do if you could give me any
-hint as to where you come from.’ He paused,
-as though hoping I might now be able to give
-him such a hint. He then continued: ‘In<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>280</span>
-my own mind I have little doubt that you are
-English, and that your home is in England.
-But I cannot be quite sure of this, and I
-should wish to be convinced before acting.
-At any hour, whether to-morrow or the
-following day—at any hour we may fall in
-with a ship bound to England whose captain
-might be willing to receive you and to land
-you. But then, unless your memory returns
-during the homeward run, what would a
-captain be able to do with you when he
-reached port? He would land you—yes;
-but humanity would not suffer him to let you
-leave his ship without your memory, without
-possessing a friend to go to, and, pardon me
-for adding, with only a few shillings in your
-pocket.’</p>
-
-<p>I hid my face and sobbed.</p>
-
-<p>‘Don’t take on, dear,’ said Mrs. Richards,
-gently clasping my wrist; ‘wait a little till
-you hear what the captain has to say. Yours<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>281</span>
-is a sorrowful, sad case, and it has to be
-thought over,’ and here her voice failed
-her.</p>
-
-<p>‘A bad disaster,’ continued the captain,
-‘has brought you into my ship and placed
-you under my care. I am obliged to put
-your own situation and condition to you fairly
-and intelligibly. If your home is in England,
-I should not wish to keep you on board my
-ship and carry you to Australia. But your
-home may not be in England, and I dislike
-the thought of sending you to that country,
-where, for all I know, you may have no
-friends. When your memory returns we shall
-gather exactly how to act.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I do not seem able to think, I do not feel
-able to reason,’ I exclaimed, putting my hand
-to my forehead.</p>
-
-<p>‘Do not trouble to think or to reason
-either,’ said the stewardess; ‘the captain
-will do it for you.’</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>282</span></p>
-
-<p>‘What,’ said Captain Ladmore, fixing his
-eyes upon Mrs. Richards, but talking as though
-he thought aloud—‘what should I be able to
-tell the shipmaster to whom I transferred
-this lady? I should have positively nothing
-whatever to tell him. He might hesitate to
-receive her. His reluctance would be justified.
-I myself should certainly hesitate to
-receive a shipwrecked lady under such circumstances.
-I should say to myself, When I
-arrive, whom shall I find to receive her?
-There might, indeed, be philanthropic institutions
-to take her in, but if I could
-not find such an institution, what should
-I do? I should have to take charge
-of her until I could place her somewhere.
-I might, indeed, advertise, send a letter
-to the newspapers, and trust by publishing
-her case to make her existence known
-to her friends. But then she may have
-no friends in England—and meanwhile?<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>283</span>
-I have thought the matter over,’ said he,
-addressing me, ‘and believe that I cannot
-do better than keep you on board, with a
-chance of your memory returning at any
-moment, and enabling me <em>then</em> to take the
-first opportuning of sending you to your
-home, wherever it may be. What do you
-think?’</p>
-
-<p>‘I cannot think. Oh, if but the dimmest
-idea would visit my mind to help you and to
-help me! It would be dreadful,’ I said in a
-voice that was failing me, ‘to find myself on
-shore, in destitution, without friends, not
-knowing what to do, where to go. <em>That</em>
-thought was a horror to me in the French
-brig, when the Frenchmen talked of landing
-me at Toulon and handing me over to the
-British Consul. I remember what they said:
-What would the British Consul do for me?’
-And then I sprang from my chair and cried
-out, hysterically, ‘Oh, Captain Ladmore, what<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>284</span>
-is to become of me? what is to become of
-me?’</p>
-
-<p>‘You are amongst friends. Do not take
-on so, dear,’ said the stewardess.</p>
-
-<p>‘It is my dreadful loneliness,’ I cried,
-speaking out of the old terror that was again
-upon me—the miserable terror that had
-possessed me again and again on board the
-Frenchman.</p>
-
-<p>‘All of us are alone,’ said the captain, in
-his deep, serious voice; ‘we arrive and we
-depart in loneliness. God Himself is alone.’</p>
-
-<p>‘Think of that!’ said the stewardess.</p>
-
-<p>‘Whilst you are with us,’ said Captain
-Ladmore, ‘it is proper that you should be
-known by some name. Your initials are
-clearly A. C. Now suppose we call you
-Miss C.? By so terming you we shall be
-preserving as much of your real name as we
-can discover.’ He paused, and a moment
-later added, addressing the stewardess, ‘Do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>285</span>
-you suggest Miss C. or Mrs. C., Mrs.
-Richards?’</p>
-
-<p>‘Oh! Miss C., sir, undoubtedly,’ she
-answered.</p>
-
-<p>I lifted my head, and perceived the
-captain examining me as scrutinisingly as
-the western light that was now weak and
-fast waning would permit.</p>
-
-<p>‘Then Miss C.,’ said he, rising slowly, and
-smiling gravely as he pronounced the name,
-‘you will consider yourself the guest of the
-ship <i>Deal Castle</i> for the present. By-and-by
-your memory will return to you. We shall
-then learn all about you, and <em>then</em>, whatever
-steps I take must certainly result in restoring
-you to your friends; whereas to tranship you
-now—— But that is settled,’ he added, with
-a dignified motion of the hand.</p>
-
-<p>He pulled out his watch, held it to the
-porthole, and then bidding the stewardess see
-that I wanted for nothing, gave me a bow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>286</span>
-and went out. Mrs. Richards produced a
-box of matches from her pocket, and lighted
-a bracket lamp.</p>
-
-<p>‘What do you think of Captain Ladmore?’
-she asked.</p>
-
-<p>‘He is the soul of goodness, Mrs.
-Richards.’</p>
-
-<p>‘He is, indeed. Who would suppose him
-to be a sea-captain? Sea-captains are thought
-to be a very rough body of men. Before I
-come upon the water as a stewardess I used
-to imagine all sea-captains as persons with
-red faces wrinkled like walnut-shells, and
-boozy eyes. They all had bandy legs, and
-used bad language. Since then I have met
-many sea-captains, and some of them are as
-I used to think they all were; but some are
-otherwise, and Captain Ladmore is one of
-them. On his return home two or three
-voyages ago he found his wife and only
-daughter dead. They had died while he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>287</span>
-away. The blow was dreadful. He cannot
-forget it, they say. It changed his nature—it
-made him a sad, grave man, and thus he
-will always be. Well, now I must go and
-attend to my work.’</p>
-
-<p>I opened the door, and she passed out
-bearing the tray.</p>
-
-<p>The floating swing of the ship was so
-steady that I was able to walk about my
-cabin with comfort. I paced round and
-round it with my hands clasped behind me
-and my eyes fixed on the floor, thinking over
-what Captain Ladmore had said. On the
-whole I was comforted. It startled me, it
-shocked me, indeed, when I thought that
-unless my memory returned I was to be
-carried all the way to Australia. Not that I
-had any clear ideas as to where Australia
-was, or its distance from the ship, and, as I
-have before said, I was unable to grasp
-the meaning of time as conveyed by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>288</span>
-stewardess’s information that the passage out
-would occupy three months or four months
-as it might be. But from what Mr. McEwan
-and Captain Ladmore and Mrs. Richards had
-said among them, I could in some manner
-understand that Sydney, whither the ship
-was bound, was an immense distance off, and
-though I had not the least idea where my
-home was—whether it was in England or in
-America, as the young Frenchman had
-suggested, or in that very continent of
-Australia to which the <i>Deal Castle</i> was
-voyaging—yet the mere notion of being
-carried a vast distance, and for no other
-purpose than to give my memory time to
-revive, with the certainty, moreover, that if
-my memory had not returned to me at the
-end of the voyage I should be as lonely,
-miserable, and helpless as I now was: here
-were considerations, as I say, to startle and
-shock me.</p>
-
-<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>289</span></p>
-
-<p>But on the whole I felt comforted. It
-was the prospect of being set ashore friendless
-at Toulon that had immeasurably added to
-my wretchedness whilst on board the Frenchman.
-But now that threatened state of
-hopelessness, of poverty, of homelessness, all
-to be exquisitely complicated by total mental
-blindness, was indefinitely postponed or
-removed. I had met with people who were
-taking pity on me, and amongst whom I
-might find friends. My health, too, would
-now be professionally watched. And then,
-again, if my home <em>were</em> in England, this ship
-would certainly in time return to that
-country, and in the long weeks between it
-might be that my memory would be restored
-to me. Therefore, as I walked about in my
-cabin I felt on the whole comforted.</p>
-
-<p>Mrs. Richards brought me an armful of
-books, some of her own, and some from the
-ship’s little collection. She said, as she put<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>290</span>
-the volumes down—it was about seven o’clock
-in the <span class="locked">evening:—</span></p>
-
-<p>‘Do you feel dull? If so, there are many
-in the saloon who would be glad to meet you
-and converse with you.’</p>
-
-<p>‘No, I am not dull. My mind is much
-more tranquil than it was. I am thinking of
-last night. How glad I am to be here!’</p>
-
-<p>‘Would you like to receive a visit?
-There are many who would be delighted to
-visit you. Mrs. Lee will gladly come and sit
-with you if you feel strong enough for a
-chat.’</p>
-
-<p>‘I would rather remain quiet, Mrs.
-Richards. To-morrow I hope—— Perhaps
-in a day or two the doctor will remove this
-bandage.’</p>
-
-<p>‘You must not think of your appearance,’
-she said, smiling, ‘although it is a good sign.
-A little vanity is always a good sign in invalids.
-I would not give much for the life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>291</span>
-of an invalid woman who is without a touch
-of womanly conceit. But you are very well;
-you look very nicely. Do not think of your
-bandage,’ and with a kindly smile and nod
-she left me.</p>
-
-<p>When I went to bed I found myself sleepless.
-But sleeplessness I might have expected
-after my deep slumbers during the day. At
-nine o’clock Mrs. Richards had brought me
-some brandy-and-water and biscuits, and
-when she left me I went to bed, and lay
-listening to the people in the steerage outside.
-I gathered that some of them were playing
-at cards: there were frequent short exclamations,
-and now and again a noisy peal of
-laughter. The sea was smooth and the ship
-was going along quietly; no creaking, no
-sounds of straining vexed the quiet when a
-hush fell upon the players.</p>
-
-<p>At ten o’clock there was a tap upon my
-door, and the voice of a man bade me put<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>292</span>
-my light out. I extinguished the lamp and
-returned to my bed. All was silent outside
-now; nothing was to be heard save a dim
-swarming noise of broken waters hurrying
-by, and at intervals the cry of a baby.
-For some time I listened to this cry, and it
-produced not the least effect upon me; but
-suddenly, on my hearing it more clearly, as
-though the door of the cabin in which the
-infant lay had been opened, a feeling of
-dreadful grief seized me—a feeling of dreadful
-loneliness. I sat up in my bed and
-racked my mind—I know not how else to
-express what I felt in my effort to <em>compel</em> my
-mind to seek in the black void of memory
-for the reasons why that infant’s cry had
-raised in me so insufferable a sense of grief,
-so incommunicable an ache of loneliness.</p>
-
-<p>I grew calm and closed my eyes, but I
-could not sleep. Time passed, and still finding
-myself sleepless, I quitted my bed and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>293</span>
-went to the porthole, and perceived through
-the glass the bluish haze of moonlit darkness,
-with many brilliant stars in it, rhythmically
-sliding to the movements of the ship. I
-cannot sleep, I said to myself. I slept too
-deeply to-day to slumber now; I will go on
-deck. The fresh air will revive me. It is
-dreadful to be in this gloom, alone and bitterly
-wakeful, thinking of this time last
-night.</p>
-
-<p>So I put on my clothes—sheen enough
-flowed through the porthole to see by—and
-I took from a peg on the door the cloak in
-which I had been wrapped when I left the
-brig, and enveloped myself in it, pulling the
-hood over my head, and quietly stepped out.
-I remembered that there was a ladder at
-either end of the steerage, and that the deck
-was the more easily to be gained by the
-foremost ladder. A lamp burnt at one end
-of the steerage, and with the help of its rays<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>294</span>
-I easily made my way to the foot of the
-steps. All was buried in deep silence. I
-mounted the steps and gained the foremost
-end of the saloon, and silently opening a
-door I passed out on to the quarterdeck, into
-the windy, moonlit, starry night.</p>
-
-<p class="p4 center wspace">END OF THE FIRST VOLUME</p>
-
-<p class="p2 center vspace">
-<span class="small">PRINTED BY<br />
-SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br />
-LONDON</span>
-</p>
-
-<div class="newpage p4 figcenter">
-  <img src="images/dec.jpg"  alt="decorative" />
-</div>
-
-<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote">
-<h2 class="nobreak p1" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
-
-<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made
-consistent when a predominant preference was found
-in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p>
-
-<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected.</p>
-</div></div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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