CHAPTER IV

Captain Blake, driven from the wardroom by a woman's sobbing, has not allowed his sentimental nature to interfere with his proper duties. Had he been that sort of man he would not have been given command of the _Marathon_ at the age of forty-two. One of the very smartest and most efficient of the junior captains he has made his way up the ladder without interest simply by his own abilities, and especially by his oft proved readiness to do the right thing in an emergency.

On this particular occasion perhaps no very great genius is required to cope with the situation; but he has dealt with it in the quickest and most effectual way, as is shown when he presently comes again into the wardroom and announces:

"I hope you haven't been thinking that I've neglected you? But I knew that I had left you in good hands and you would be well looked after. Meanwhile, I've been calling up by wireless one of our destroyer escort, and I propose to send you back to the shore in her. Ah, that's the reply I expect"--as a signalman enters and holds up before him a signal pad with a written message on it--"Yes, that's all right. She'll be alongside soon, and we'll have you all quite safe on shore before very long."

"We did not expect to get away so soon, sir," says the dour Sheridan. Surgeon Dale, who prides himself on being a keen observer, thinks he detects a certain note of disappointment in the words.

"Well," says the captain, who also notices something of the same sort but interprets it in a different sense, "I'm afraid it is the best I can do, under the circumstances. Naturally, you would prefer to wait and be landed at some civilised spot, but we unfortunately are not cruising to any such destination. And I can't let the destroyer be away from us too long--she must return again during the night. But you shall be landed at our own base, and you can go south from there in a day or two. Will that suit you, do you think?"

Sheridan has been listening very intently to the captain's words, and it is quite noticeable that he tries to control an ill-pleased expression. Though what on earth he can find to be annoyed about in such a kind offer is hard to imagine. Moreover, the same tone of chagrin creeps involuntarily into his voice as he replies with brief courtesy:

"Thank you, sir; the arrangements will suit us admirably."

Under cover of the captain's presence, and taking advantage of his timely monopoly of the conversation, Stapleton has beguiled his lady fair into the farthest corner of the wardroom, where a hanging curtain makes a little alcove so that they are shut off from the others, at least, as far as this is possible in a small cruiser's wardroom.

The pretext under which he executes this manœuvre is that he wishes to show her a picture of the ship hanging there, and will be charmed if she will allow him to send her a copy of it later on as a memento of her short visit. But strangely enough he forgets all about this as soon as they are alone together, and apparently finds plenty to say to her on some other subject. For he seats her in a cosy wicker chair and, drawing over another for himself bends towards her and talks earnestly in an undertone. Very earnestly indeed.

"And now, sir," continues the captain, "if you feel fit to do so, I should be glad if you would come along to my cabin and let me take down your report of this distressing affair. I expect the destroyer will be here, ready to take you back, in about twenty minutes."

Stapleton, overhearing him, remarks quietly, "Oh, damn!--that is, I beg your pardon, I meant 'oh, bother!'"

"But why do you say that?" asks Norah Sheridan suppressing a smile.

"Because it means that you will have to go away, just as I--oh, dash it all--why, I may never see you again!"

"I think that is more than likely." Again that hard resolute expression in the girl's eyes.

"But I--I want to see you again! Oh, I say, I do wish you hadn't got to go so soon! But, look here, you will let me see you again some time, won't you? Tell me where I can come and see you."

"But how can you want that? Barely half an hour ago you did not even know of my existence!"

"That does not matter at all. The main thing is that I do know of it now. Think, how strange it is, your coming here in such a fashion! Can't you see that there is something greater than ourselves in all this? Don't you believe it is Destiny that is leading you--and me?"

"Perhaps I do believe it." Very softly comes this admission.

"Then don't attempt to fight against fate: I tell you we must meet again."

"I do not think that you will ever be able to see me, after to-day."

"No, no, don't say that! I will surely come if you will let me."

"That may be beyond my power--and yours."

"You are right--of course. I know quite well what you mean. Though we hardly ever give it a thought--or if we do, it is only to jest about it; all the same we know very well, all of us, that our country may claim our lives at any moment. Well, so be it! But, putting aside that chance, will you not let me see you again?"

"Do you really mean that you would come?"

"Mean it? Why, I would--oh, I know what it is; you are thinking that I am just an impulsive fool, the sort of impressionable idiot who loses his head over every pretty girl he sees and says all manner of things without meaning them. Well, I'm not surprised if you do think so. I've no right to expect anything else. But all the same I do not happen to be that kind of man."

"Did I say that I thought that of you?"

"No, but you looked it! Well, I don't wonder. Any girl would, I suppose. Or else you probably think I have gone mad to talk like this to you. Perhaps I have; but nevertheless, I ask you again, only tell me where I may find you, and if I live I will come to you."

"But you don't know who I am! You don't know what I am!"

"I know enough. Listen! It is quite true that up to less than an hour ago I never knew you, had never even seen you. But very great things can happen in a little time, can't they? And it is a great thing that has happened to me. I never thought to fall in love--certainly not to fall a victim to love at first sight like a moonstruck boy. I meant to live for the Service, and that was my only ambition: women never entered into my life. But now, this thing has come to me, and my only hope lies in telling you openly, in these few minutes that are left to us."

"Do you mean," says the girl, speaking very slowly and with a quite unaccountable look of something very like horror in her dilated eyes, "do you mean to tell me seriously that you have actually fallen in love with me? Is this what you are telling me?"

"It is. That, and nothing less. I can't blame you if you think I have gone suddenly out of my senses, as I daresay you do. Oh, I know--I always used to think myself, like most people, I suppose, that love at first sight was nothing more than the sort of romantic nonsense one reads about in books, and never happened in real life. Well, I daresay it doesn't occur very often; but just once in a while it must happen or else people would never have thought about such a thing. And now I have proved it is true. As soon as I saw you standing here in the light of this room I knew that there never would be any other woman in the world for me but you, and--I loved you!"

"But why--oh, why?"

"How can I tell? These things are beyond the powers of reason. If you want me to analyse my feelings, I know that I saw truth and honour and goodness gleaming like a halo around you--but this does not explain it at all, really. It is only that I love you because--because I love you!"

"But--it is impossible!"

"No, not impossible. It is true. Norah, look me in the face, and you will see that I am in earnest. Ah! give me your hands--no, you shall not deny me! Yes, you see now--you know now. And _I_ know that if those eyes of yours do not shine for me, then I shall be for ever in the darkness!"

A low wail, as of a creature in agony, rises from the girl's lips, as she passionately tears her hands from his grasp and in a moaning voice echoes his words:

"_For ever in the darkness!_ Oh, my God!"

"Number One, are you there? Where are you?"

Confound the fellow! Stapleton recognises the voice of assistant-paymaster Merritt; and hears also Dale telling him:

"He's in there, behind the curtain."

Stapleton had always rather liked Merritt up to the present. But at this moment he hates him, with a fierce and bitter hatred. A feeling which only grows more intense when that youth drags aside the curtain and says "Oh, sorry!" with a silly grin that closes again like an elastic band, though not without an evident effort; adding in an attempt at an official voice:

"The captain has sent me to say that he wishes you to bring Miss Norah Sheridan to his cabin so that he may complete his report; he is afraid Miss Netta is not well enough, so he will not disturb her."

"Oh, confound the captain! But where duty calls I must obey, and all that sort of thing. Miss Sheridan, may I show you the way?"

They find the wardroom empty as they go towards the door, excepting for the presence of Dale and Netta Sheridan, who are sitting very quietly. The surgeon is keeping an eye on his charge, but is not bothering her with too much talk; she is far from having recovered her strength. The other officers have quietly vanished, being of the opinion that now Sheridan has been called away by the captain they can be of very little use, and that to use a vulgar expression, their room is worth more than their company.

So, inwardly fuming at his ill-luck in being interrupted at such an inopportune moment, Stapleton leads the way to the captain's cabin.

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