CHAPTER VI.

THE RENDEZVOUS.

He did not stir for some moments after she had disappeared. He was fearful lest the sailors on deck should suspect there was some connection between them if they quitted the place together. And his reflections as he paced to and fro the berth, were anything but pleasant ones.

‘How _dared_ she follow me?’ he soliloquised, with rage and anger gnawing at his heart. ‘She has blighted my last chance, frustrated all my plans, and now defies me to save myself! Farrell, of course, has blurted out all that infernal business to her. I suppose that was the revenge he threatened me with the other night; and she will use it as a weapon against me. But I will put a stop to her tongue, curse her! She shall not stand in my way to fortune.’

He thought he might venture to leave the spare galley by this time, and making his way over the wet deck, he walked straight aft to the saloon, and throwing himself on one of the lounges, called the steward to fetch him a brandy-and-soda.

He had never felt so upset in his life as he did from this annoying interview. It had half maddened him! What on earth could he do or say to stop the chattering tongue of a jealous and spiteful woman? It would be as easy, he thought, to dam the falls of Niagara! And it took more than one brandy to quiet in any degree his shaken and agitated nerves.

Then he rose and walked, trembling in every limb, to his own cabin, and, locking the door, threw himself down upon the bed and tried to think what was best to be done. One thing only seemed clear to him. If he allowed Iris and Farrell to have their own way, he stood a very good chance of ending his days as a felon! She had said that Farrell held the _proofs_ of his forgery! What proofs? Where had he procured them? What did he retain them for, except to work his ruin? _If_ he could only get rid of those proofs, he would be safe. But then there was Iris--his bane and his curse--always ready to reappear and spoil his chances with Grace Vansittart. She was too virtuous to consent to go halves with him in obtaining their mutual freedom; but she would not prove too virtuous, he would bet, to drag him from the quiet and respectable life he intended to lead, back to poverty, and shame, and public disgrace! What if he could get rid of them _both_ together! If he could only induce Iris, on the pretence of following her wishes in the matter, to bring him the proofs that Farrell held against him, by night, and then--

‘But no,’ he thought, with a visible shudder, as his hands twitched nervously, ‘I couldn’t--_I couldn’t_! I am in her devilish clutches,--actually in her power, and there is no way out of it but one. I must give up Grace, and all my future prospects, and return to my old life of hopeless impecuniosity. Oh, it is _too_ hard! Why on earth was I such a fool as to let her discover my intentions? I ought to be hung, for such a piece of senseless imbecility.’

Here he lay for some time in silence, thinking deeply. After a while, a cold, cruel smile crept over his hard features, as though his perplexity were solved.

‘Of course, _the surgery_. Nothing can be easier; and I’ll have those proofs, if nothing else. I’ll send Iris a model letter, asking her to meet me to-night in the spare galley, to settle what is best to be done in the matter; and if I can persuade her to bring the proofs with her, I’ll take good care she doesn’t take them back again. I’ll put one witness against me out of the way, at all events, until I have determined what to do with the other.’

After this fashion Godfrey Harland talked to himself, whilst locked up in his berth; and by the time the dinner-bell rang, he felt too nervous and excited to trust himself to join the other passengers.

It was a bleak, cold evening. The sky was blue, and spangled with bright stars, and every now and then the moon shot forth white darts of light; but they were frequently obscured by heavy squalls which covered the heavens, whilst they lasted, with a heavy drapery.

In the rare intervals, the white sails and masts of the _Pandora_ stood out in bold relief against the sky, and the crested swells were lit up with rays of silver. The ultra-marine blue above, with its thousands of little lamps, contrasted strangely with the sage-green waters; and a wicked-looking cloud that was rising astern served as a most becoming background for the sea and air.

The deck was cast well in shadow when the figure of a man, who had been standing about for some time in feverish suspense, emerged from the shade of the companion-ladder, and stole towards the surgery door, which was between the long saloon passage and the berth of the second officer. Glancing around more than once, to make sure that no one was at hand, he pushed back the lock with his clasp-knife, and with a sudden wrench turning the handle, disappeared from sight, and closed the door behind him.

The saloon passengers, as they finished their dinner, rose from table and donned their overcoats and wraps, with a view to going on deck.

‘Now, that’s a bargain, doctor!’ laughed Alice Leyton; ‘six pairs of gloves if the _Pandora_ gets in under three days?’

‘Yes, Miss Leyton; and from the very best glover in Canterbury.’

‘I take sixes, remember, and never wear less than eight buttons,’ said Alice.

‘Don’t count your buttons before we reach the goal,’ replied the doctor merrily. ‘I think (luckily for me) they are still looming a long way in the distance; for if we do not get a strong breeze by to-morrow at latest, Mr Coffin tells me we cannot possibly drop anchor till Sunday. But if you will excuse me, I will run and get the paregoric lozenges I promised Miss Vere.’

And Dr Lennard disappeared into the passage.

‘Very strange,’ he muttered to himself, as he turned the handle of the surgery door. ‘I thought I locked it before dinner. Hullo! hullo! Who’s that? What are you doing in here?’

‘It’s all right, doctor,’ replied Harland, confronting him with rather a confused countenance; ‘don’t be alarmed. I was sitting smoking on the weatherboard, and dropped the end of my cigar inside, so I came after it, in case it might be dangerous.’

‘There’s nothing to catch alight here, though, of course, you should be cautious,’ said the doctor, half suspiciously. ‘By the way, did you find the door open?’

‘Well, _rather_,’ rejoined Harland. ‘You don’t suspect me of keeping skeleton keys, do you?’

‘I don’t suspect anything, but I certainly thought that I had locked the door when I put the key in my pocket. I must be more careful in future, or some one will be after my case of medical port.’

‘By Jove! yes,’ acquiesced Harland. ‘If any of these thirsty dogs of shellbacks were knocking about, they’d make short work of a dozen of port--wouldn’t they? The brutes drink like fishes.’

‘They’re not the only people aboard that know how to drink,’ answered the doctor dryly, with a meaning glance at his companion, who laughed awkwardly, and turned away to the lee side of the vessel.

At the same moment, Iris was reading over a letter which she had received from her husband, to Maggie and Farrell.

‘Don’t you go,’ pleaded the former; ‘don’t go nigh him, my pretty. He only wants to try and talk you over; and you’re so soft-hearted, I’m not sure but what you’ll give in to him.’

‘Surely you will not keep this appointment, Miss Douglas,’ urged Farrell. ‘We have only a few more days to spend on board now, and during that time, you should avoid him as much as possible. He only wants, as Maggie says, to persuade you to alter your mind. Write and tell him that it is made up, and you have nothing more to say to him on the subject.’

‘You both seem to think me terribly weak,’ said Iris, almost irritably. ‘Do you suppose I can’t take care of myself? I told Mr Harland my intentions plainly, and he quite understands there is no alternative. All he wishes is to see me again, in order that we may arrange together how best to carry out our plans. I think that is only reasonable. Did you listen attentively to his letter? Let me read it to you again:--

‘MY DEAR IRIS,--I have been thinking deeply over what you said to me this afternoon, and I see you are right, and I must have been crazy to dream of doing anything else. Can you forgive me? If you can, it will help me to do my duty for the future, and I promise you to act on the square. You say that Farrell holds proofs against me. Were I convinced of this, it would materially alter my plans for our well-doing. Are they accessible? I should much like to see them. Try and persuade him to let you have the custody of them for half-an-hour. I pledge you my word of honour not even to touch them. How could I do anything repugnant to your wishes, in so public a place as the spare galley? If you will meet me there to-night at ten o’clock, when the passengers are at supper, I will tell you what arrangements I have made for you on landing. It is possible we may be at Canterbury sooner than you anticipate, and it is best (in order to save gossip) that we should not leave the ship together. Do not fail to meet me to-night.--Yours, G. H.’

‘Cant! Humbug!’ exclaimed Farrell. ‘There is some deep scheme hidden under this pretended repentance. You will be a fool, Miss Douglas, if you comply with his request.’

‘You are both against him,’ said Iris. ‘I know he has a hundred faults, but he _may_ be sincere in wishing to amend his life. And _I_ am not the one who should refuse to help him.’

And as she spoke, she twisted up the note, and held it in the flame of the swinging lamp.

‘What are you doing?’ cried Farrell quickly, as he attempted to rescue it.

‘Burning my letter. Have I not a right to burn it?’ returned Iris, in a tone of annoyance.

‘Certainly; but I do not consider it a judicious act. It is evidence against him. Chicanery is written in every line. What should he want to see those proofs for, except to destroy them?’

‘You all suspect him. Because he has sinned _once_, he can do nothing right in your eyes now,’ said Iris impetuously. ‘And I suppose, Mr Farrell, if I asked you for those proofs, you would refuse to trust them to me?’

‘I should, indeed; for _your_ sake more than my own. It is of little consequence to me whether he suffers the penalty of the law or not; but it is of the utmost importance that he should be kept in fear of it, to protect your interests.’

‘Then I shall go and see him without them, and tell him that you have no pity,’ replied Iris, as she rose and went to her own cabin.

‘Will she _really_ go?’ demanded Farrell of Maggie.

‘I’m much afraid she will, unless I stop her. Ah, Will, she’ll be a deal too good to him. Them few soft words have melted her like fire does snow. Sometimes I think I’ll tell her all, and let her see what a double-dyed rascal he is; but then I couldn’t bear for her to look coldly on _me_. Lord! how the wind howls. It’s an awful night, ain’t it? A reg’lar storm. And what’s that? The mistress cryin’! Ah, I must go to her, poor dear. This business has upset her altogether.’

‘Try all you can to persuade her not to see that man again, Maggie.’

‘I’ll do my best; but if she’s set on it, she will. But, there, let me go to her. I’ve a notion in my head I’ll find a way out of it yet.’

She rushed to Iris, and found her (as she had anticipated) in hysterics. The excitement had overtaxed her strength, and Harland’s apparently repentant note had finished the work. She sobbed and cried for a long time without control, and then was so exhausted she was obliged to lie down in her berth.

‘Now! you’re better,’ said Maggie soothingly; ‘and if you’ll promise to lie quiet till I come back, I’ll run and get something for you from the doctor.’

‘Oh, no, Maggie! I must get up. It is time to go and meet Godfrey,’ replied Iris, trying to rise.

‘I am sure it isn’t. It has only just gone nine. You have a whole hour yet. Rest a bit, my pretty, and let me get you some camphor, or you won’t be able to speak to him.’

Iris closed her eyes in acquiescence, and Maggie ran off in search of Dr Lennard.

‘Doctor,’ she said persuasively, ‘my lady, Miss Douglas, has had the high-strikes, and I want to get her to sleep at once. Will you mix her a sleeping-draught, in some camphor, that she can take straight off.’

After a few questions, the doctor compounded the soporific, and Maggie took it back to the cabin and made Iris swallow it. In a few minutes her sobs relaxed, her eyes closed, her hands folded themselves over her heaving breast, and she was asleep. Maggie drew the blankets closely over her, and sat by her side until she was fairly off.

‘_That’s_ right,’ she thought, chuckling to herself; ‘that was very neatly done. She’ll sleep sound, poor dear, till it’s ten o’clock to-morrow morning. And now, shall I tell Will what I am going to do? I think not. He’ll want to interfere, and spoil everything. I can manage matters much better by myself. I will go and meet Mr Harland, and find out what he really means to do; and I can pretend I’ve got the papers, until he’s told me all his mind, and then I can discover I’ve left ’em below stairs after all. But I mustn’t let him guess as it’s me until I know his plans for the mistress, or he won’t tell ’em. Let me see! How can I disguise myself?’ looking round the cabin. ‘Ah! there’s my pretty’s cloak, and the black worsted wrap; and I can put a veil over my face, and say I was afraid of being recognised by the saloon people. And now I must hoodwink Will. Lord, what a trouble all these men are! You can’t do nothing with them without lying all round.’

A moment later she was in the general cabin.

‘She’s gone off nicely,’ she whispered to Farrell. ‘I got a draught for her from the doctor, mixed up in camphor, and she took it like a lamb and was asleep in five minutes. And I guess Mr Harland will have to wait a long time in the spare galley before he bullies her to-night, poor dear.’

‘Well, you _are_ a clever girl,’ said Will admiringly; ‘you’ll be the smartest wife for miles round when you and I are married, Maggie.’

‘Well, mind you make me a husband to match, then,’ she answered, laughing. ‘But I’ll go to bed myself now, Will, for I’m reg’lar tired. I think the wind makes one sleepy.’

‘All right! I’m just off for a game at cards with Perry. Good-night, my dear!’

Maggie whisked away, with the cloak and shawl thrown over her arm, and at ten o’clock she issued from the steerage so completely enveloped in them that no casual observer could have said if it were she or her mistress. The night was pitchy dark. Nothing could be seen all round the vessel but the boiling foam, flashing with sparkling diamonds of spray, that rushed in seething suds from the vessel’s bows. To watch the _Pandora_ at this moment from her topgallant forecastle was a glorious sight. The bank of snowy lather that was dispersed on either side to make way for her keel, tossed and rolled over in impotent fury; the plunges of the ship’s cutwater, that often dipped her harpoon-shaped martingale deep into the sea; the angry waves that dashed against her figurehead, and the breakers that leaped fitfully against her sides, as if they panted to drag her down to the unfathomable deep, composed a scene of majesty and awe. The sailors knew that they might expect a stiff gale. Mr Coffin had stowed all her smaller sails, shortening her down to topsails, and clad in his long weather coat awaited the coming storm.

The freshening wind hummed in the rigging, and made the loose ropes beat against the backstays. With a long stretch the _Pandora_ careened over on her side, and set off at a swinging pace on her course.

The sailors on watch, considering they had done enough work for that evening, and knowing there would be plenty for them by-and-by, had turned into the forecastle to put on their oilskins. Only the ‘wheel’ and the ‘look-out’ were on deck, and the darkness made even them invisible, as Maggie Greet, disguised in Iris’s long mantle, entered the open door on the leeward of the spare galley. Godfrey Harland was already there, and moved a few steps towards her.

‘I felt sure you would see the wisdom of meeting me,’ he said; ‘we will soon set this matter right now. Come from the open door and stand nearer this way; there will be the less chance of what we say to each other being overheard.’

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