CHAPTER XI.

SHIPPING SEAS.

A strong westerly wind coursed the Southern ocean, and gigantic green waves rolled on all sides of the _Pandora_, sometimes rushing up against her with pugilistic violence, and depositing tons of water on her deck. White clouds drifted across the heavens with tremendous speed, upon a background of cerulean blue. A grey bank, however, that stretched from aft to the starboard beam, betokened the advent of hail, or snow, whilst the sun struggled at times to pour his feeble rays upon the surface of the deep.

The _Pandora_ was running before the gale. Her mainsails and crossjack were stowed, to permit the foresail to have full play, which bellied out to such an extent that it pressed tightly against the sheep-skin chafing-gear on the forestay. The fore-topmast staysail and inner jib, flapping idly to and fro, might have had the gaskets round them, for all the good that they were doing, and the smaller sails on the mizen were furled, to keep the main royal and topgallant sail full, lest she should take in too much water aft.

The heavy swells made the ship roll violently, often dipping her main bumpkins into the water, and agitating the compass card to such an extent that the man at the wheel could not depend on its accuracy, for ascertaining the true position of the vessel’s head.

At mid-day the sun had risen behind a squall, and Captain Robarts, after waiting patiently for twenty minutes, with sextant in hand, carried his instrument below again, and went to luncheon, not, however, without a growl at the obstructing cloud which prevented his getting the meridian altitude.

The hour for lunch was gladly welcomed by the passengers that day, for their appetites had been sharpened by the keen wind, and punctual to the moment, all were seated in their accustomed places.

Vernon Blythe, arrayed in his long silk oilskin coat and ‘sou’-wester,’ having relieved Mr Coffin, was in charge of the vessel, and the watch were huddled together round the mainmast, standing by to take his orders.

As the sky became darker with the squall, large flakes of snow fell upon the deck, and increased in number, until the _Pandora_ was enveloped in a blinding sheet of white.

‘It is useless to look at the compass,’ said Vernon Blythe, as he watched the helmsman trying to clear the face with his mitten. ‘Watch her head, man, and give her as few spokes as possible.’

The _Pandora’s_ steering-gear was of the latest invention, and a reliable quartermaster would have found no difficulty in guiding her on her course. But the man at the helm had been taught to steer by the compass only, and when the snow covered the glass of the binnacle and obscured the points, he was utterly at a loss how to proceed, and quite unfit, in consequence, for the responsible post he held.

When, therefore, the ship ran off her course, he gave her so many spokes that she came flying to--the weather leeches shivered, the headsails filled, and she shipped an enormous sea, which thumped upon the deck right amidships, and ran in a boisterous torrent forward.

Vernon Blythe saw the ship’s mad caperings, and shouted to the helmsman to put his helm up, before she was broadside on. But he was too late. The mischief was done. With the backward roll of the _Pandora_, as she lifted over the swells, the mighty stream of water flowed aft. The steward, unprepared for such a disaster, had not shipped the weather board, and the sea poured through the cabin passage, taking him clean off his legs, and drenching both himself and a roast turkey, which he was about pompously to place on the saloon table, with salt water.

The sailors at the main, knowing what to expect when scudding with such a sea, jumped on the fiferail, and clung to the crossjack braces, thus saving themselves a ducking.

But the assault was not yet over. Immediately succeeding the first sea, a second cataract of water leapt over at the main chains, and doubled the large amount which was already aboard. At this disaster, dismay and confusion reigned paramount in the saloon. Ladies and gentlemen left their luncheon alike, as the latter rushed about to see if they could render any serviceable assistance, and the former, with piteous little shrieks for help, lifted their petticoats, and jumped on the seats, to keep their feet out of the water.

‘We are going down!’ cried Mrs Vansittart. ‘Oh, John, I knew no good would come of our going to England.’

‘Mother!’ screamed Alice Leyton, ‘the sea is filling the ship! Oh, where is Jack?’

‘Don’t leave me, Godfrey,’ murmured Grace Vansittart, as she clung to her lover’s shoulders.

‘Ladies, I beg of you not to be alarmed. I can assure you there is not the slightest danger,’ commenced Captain Robarts; but an accident, which had its comical as well as its serious side, prevented the conclusion of his sentence. The benches on which the party had been seated were made of oak, with broad backs, fastened to the deck on either side with brass screws. Consequently, when the ladies scrambled on them, and stood as far back as they possibly could, with their skirts gathered in their hands, the whole of their weight was thrown on the supports. The oaken benches were strong, but the fastenings were not, and the unusual strain drew the screws from their hold, and caused the entire structure to give way. With piercing screams and exclamations, clutching at the fiddles and the tablecloths, and dragging the china and glass on the top of them, the men and women were precipitated backwards into the stream of water, where they lay in a confused heap, struggling and spluttering, but unable to extricate themselves. Their heads were against the doors and partitions of the private cabins, whilst their bodies rested on the seats of the benches, which were partly underneath them. The deplorable but ridiculous scene can better be imagined than described. Rolls, pats of butter, cold chickens, potatoes, and empty bottles of beer were floating about the cabin floor, whilst the dish-covers and glasses were mostly in their laps, or surging against their faces. The men could not move, any more than their fair companions, and whilst some swore and others sobbed with fright and humiliation, the cold salt water kept ‘swishing’ over them all.

Captain Robarts, from his arm-chair of state, viewed the accident as an everyday occurrence, and awaited its termination with complacency, not offering the slightest assistance to any one. But Mr Coffin, with his mouth full of roast goose; and a wicked smile of amusement on his face, gallantly went to the rescue. Mrs Vansittart was the first saved from the deluge, with the colour considerably lessened in her honest, rosy face. Captain Lovell was next hauled out, but he made light of the affair, and burst into a loud laugh, which was instantly stopped by the aggrieved and indignant looks of Alice Leyton.

‘How can you laugh in that unfeeling way,’ she said, ‘when I feel bruised all over? But of course you’re not hurt yourself, and so it does not signify. Men are the most selfish creatures in the world.’

‘By Jove! it’s spoilt my new suit, though, don’t you know?’ observed Mr Greenwood, looking the picture of misery, as he examined the state of his garments.

‘You did your best to burn us out of house and home the other day, Mr Greenwood,’ said the captain grimly, ‘so you mustn’t be surprised if no one sympathises with you over a ducking.’

‘_We_ shall be none the worse for it,’ remarked Mr Fowler, shaking himself like a huge water-dog; ‘it’s the ladies who are to be pitied for wetting their pretty dresses, and prettier faces.’

But the women did not wait to be condoled with. As soon as they had regained a normal position, and ascertained there was nothing to be frightened at in ‘shipping a sea,’ they ran away to their berths to change their clothes, and recover the shock sustained by their modesty.

In the second cabin the passengers had not escaped a wetting. Plenty of water had penetrated the hatch, and made their abode damp and uncomfortable, and it was not until the first dog-watch had commenced, and the swinging lamps were lit, that they could sit with dry feet in the general dining-room.

‘My pretty,’ whispered Maggie Greet, as she crept up to Iris’s side for a moment, ‘you’ll have to keep to your berth this evening, if you don’t want to have a shindy, for Will says as _he’s_ coming down to play here with the others.’

‘_Mr Harland?_’ exclaimed Iris, blanching like a lily. ‘Oh, Maggie! _why_ does he come here? Who asked him?’

‘I don’t know, dear. Not Mr Farrell, you may be sure, for they hate each other like poison. But Will says he’s been kicked out of every other cabin. They’re fighting very shy of him upstairs, as well they may. And he overheard a gentleman asking Mr Harland why he didn’t come down and play on the lower deck, and he said he’d try it to-night. So be on your guard, that’s all.’

‘What shall I do?’ said Iris distressfully. ‘If he takes to it as a custom, he will drive me to take refuge in my berth every evening. I never thought the saloon passengers would be allowed down here.’

‘Well! I expect, if you want to get rid of him, you’ve only to show yourself. I believe he’d rather see the devil just now than you. For _he_ don’t interfere with his wickedness, but _you_ will! It would be all up with his game with Miss Vansittart, if you told your true name to the captain! Wouldn’t it, my dear?’

‘And that is what I shall be compelled to do, Maggie, sooner or later. I cannot stand by and see him commit such a wickedness, and hold myself guiltless.’

‘Not even if you could have Mr--I mean a better man instead of him,’ insinuated Maggie.

‘No, Maggie! a better man wouldn’t take me on such conditions. But I don’t want to shame Mr Harland before all the ship, if a more private means of warning him will have the same effect. I sit sometimes for hours and try to decide what will be for the best, and I always come to the same conclusion--that I am one of the most unfortunate women on the face of the earth.’

‘Never mind, my pretty,’ whispered Maggie consolingly, ‘it’ll all come right some day. I have doubts about myself sometimes, because I’ve been a wicked girl, and it don’t seem right as I _should_ be happy. But I’ve none about you! I can see it as plain as a picture, and if I don’t live to see it, it will be all the same. You’ll have a good man and a true, please God, some day, to make up to you for the past!’

And Maggie turned away with a sob.

‘Why, dear Maggie! what’s the matter with you to-night?’

‘Nothing, mistress, only Will’s too good to me sometimes, and makes me so ashamed of myself. But there now, the gentlemen are beginning to come down for their game, so I must run away, and you’d better do the same.’

And so the two women, who owed much of their immunity from discovery to Will Farrell’s careful look-out on their behalf, kissed each other, and separated for the night.

The origin of this conversation was, that since the breaking up of the card-parties in the smoke-room, owing to the loose play of Godfrey Harland, the deckhouse had been deserted of an evening, and the gentlemen had betaken themselves elsewhere.

Some played in the spacious berth of the second officers, others preferred the society of the ladies, and a few were invited to the second cabin, where smoking was not prohibited, and their less aristocratic fellow-passengers did their utmost to make them feel at home.

Many a game at dominoes or whist had been played there lately by the men from the saloon, who had become so friendly with its rightful owners that they did not even wait for an invitation. Besides, in many respects, the second cabin was preferable to the deckhouse. In the former the steward was always at hand to provide refreshments, whilst in the latter, if a man wished for anything, he was compelled to go on deck and find the head steward, which interrupted the game, and annoyed all concerned.

Since the cardroom had been closed, Godfrey Harland’s time hung heavily upon his hands. He was not quite so bold and open as he had been in paying court to Grace Vansittart. He fancied her father and mother looked somewhat more coolly on him than they had done at first, and preferred whispering ‘soft nothings’ to her, when they found themselves alone. So he did not care to be shut up in the state cabin all the evening, where every look he gave, and word he uttered, was seen, heard, and commented upon. He was debarred from entering the berth of Vernon Blythe. An instinctive dislike existed between these two young men, and made itself apparent every time they met. So the only resource left to him seemed the second cabin, to which a young fellow of the name of Pemberton had warmly invited him. Harland knew he should meet Will Farrell there, but on the whole he thought it advisable he should meet and make friends with him before they parted company. But he little thought _how_ much more Farrell knew of him now than he had done when they last saw each other. Had he done so, he would have known he had better have entered a cockatrice’s den than the second cabin of the _Pandora_.

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