The Lust of Hate, Guy Newell Boothby [essential books to read .txt] 📗
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and willing hands pulled us quickly alongside.
By the time we reached it the gangway had been lowered, and a
couple of men were standing at the foot of it ready to receive us. I
remember leaning over to fend her off, and I also have a good
recollection of seeing one of the men—the ship’s doctor I afterwards
discovered him to be—step into the boat.
“Can you walk up the steps yourself, or would you like to be
carried?” he asked, as I sank down on the thwart again.
“Carry the lady,” I answered huskily; “I can manage to get up
myself. Take her quickly, or she will die.”
I saw him pick Miss Maybourne up, and, assisted by the
quartermaster who had accompanied him, carry her up the ladder. I
attempted to follow, only to discover how weak I really was. By the
exercise of sheer will, however, I managed to scramble up, holding on
to the rail, and so gained the deck. Even after all this lapse of
time I can distinctly see the crowd of eager faces pressed round the
top of the ladder to catch a glimpse of us, and I can hear again the
murmurs of sympathy that went up as we made our appearance. After
that all seems a blank, and I can only believe what I am
told—namely, that I looked round me in a dazed sort of fashion, and
then fell in a dead faint upon the deck.
When I recovered consciousness again, I had to think for a moment
before I could understand what had happened. I found myself in a
handsomely-furnished cabin that I had never seen before. For an
instant I imagined myself back again on the ill-fated Fiji
Princess. Then a tall, red-bearded man—the same who had carried
Miss Maybourne up from the boat—entered, and came towards me.
Through the door, which he had left open, I could see the
awning-covered promenade-deck outside. As soon as I saw him I tried
to sit up on the velvet-cushioned locker upon which I had been
placed, but he bade me be content to lie still for a little
while.
“You will be far better where you are,” he said. “What you want is
rest and quiet. Take a few sips of this, and then lie down again and
try to get to sleep. You have some arrears to make up in that line,
or I’m mistaken.”
He handed me a glass from the tray above my couch, and held it for
me while I drank. When I had finished I laid myself down again, and,
instead of obeying him, began to question him as to where I was. But
once more I was forestalled, this time by the entrance of a steward
carrying a bowl of broth on a tray.
“You see we’re determined, one way or another, to close your
mouth,” he said, with a laugh. “But this stuff is too hot for you at
present. We’ll put it down here to cool, and in the meantime I’ll
answer not more than half-a-dozen questions. Fire away, if you feel
inclined.”
I took him at his word, and put the one question of all others I
was longing to have answered.
“How is the lady who was rescued with me?”
“Doing as well as can be expected, poor soul,” he replied. “She’s
being well looked after, so you need not be anxious about her. You
must have had a terrible time in that boat, to judge from the effects
produced. Now, what is the next question?”
“I want to know what ship this is, and how far we were from the
Salvages when you picked us up?”
“This vessel is The King of Carthage—Captain Blockman in
command. I’m afraid I can’t answer your last question offhand, for
the reason that, being the doctor, I have nothing to do with the
navigation of the ship; but I’ll soon find out for you.”
He left the cabin, and went to the foot of the ladder that led to
the bridge. I heard him call the officer of the watch, and say
something to him. Presently he returned.
“The Salvages lie about seventy miles due nor’-nor’-east of our
present position,” he said.
“Nor’-nor’-east?” I cried. “Then I was even further out in my
calculations than I expected.”
“Why do you ask about the Salvages?”
“Because it was on a rock off those islands that our ship, the
Fiji Princess, was lost. We put off from the island to try and
catch a sailing vessel that came in sight yesterday morning. A dense
fog came on, however, and during the time it lasted we lost both the
ship we went out to stop and also our island. Ever since then we have
been drifting without food or water.”
“You have indeed had a terrible experience. But you’ve a splendid
constitution, and you’ll soon get over the effects of it. And now
tell me, were no others saved from the wreck?”
“As far as we could tell, with the exception of our three selves,
not a single soul.”
“You say ‘three selves,’ but we only rescued the lady and
yourself. What, then, became of the third?”
“The third was a child about eight years old. The poor little
thing must have been hurt internally when we were sucked under by the
sinking ship, and her condition was probably not improved by the long
exposure we had to endure on the bottom of the boat from which you
rescued us. She scarcely recovered consciousness, and died on the
island a short time before we left it in our attempt to catch the
vessel I spoke of just now.”
“I never heard a sadder case,” said the doctor. “You are indeed to
be pitied. I wonder the lady, your companion, came through it alive.
By the way, the skipper was asking me just now if I knew your
names.”
“The lady is Miss Maybourne, whose father is a well-known man at
the Cape, I believe.”
“Surely not Cornelius Maybourne, the mining man?”
“Yes, she is his daughter. He will be in a terrible state when the
Fiji Princess is reported missing.”
“I expect he will; but, fortunately, we shall be in Cape Town
almost as soon as she would have been, and he will find that his
daughter, thanks to your care, is safe and sound. Now I am not going
to let you talk any more. First, take a3 much of this broth as you
can manage, and then lie down and try to get to sleep again. As I
said just now, I prophesy that in a few days you’ll be up and about,
feeling no ill-effects from your terrible adventure.”
I obeyed him, and drank the broth. When I had done so I laid down
again, and in a very short time was once more in the Land of Nod.
When I opened my eyes again the cabin was almost dark. The doctor was
still in attendance, and, as soon as he saw that I was awake, asked
me if I would like to get up for a little while. I answered that I
should be only too glad to do so; and when he had helped me to dress,
I took possession of a chair on the promenade-deck outside. It was
just dinner-time in the saloon, and by the orders of the Captain, who
came personally to enquire how I was, I was served with a meal on
deck. Nothing could have exceeded the kindness and thoughtfulness of
the officers and passengers. The latter, though anxious to hear our
story from my own lips, refrained from bothering me with questions;
and thinking quiet would conduce to my recovery, allowed me to have
the use of that end of the deck unmolested. As soon as I could do so,
I enquired once more after Miss Maybourne, and was relieved to hear
that she was making most satisfactory progress towards recovery.
After dinner the Captain came up, and seating himself in a chair
beside me, asked a few questions concerning the foundering of the
Fiji Princess, which information, I presumed, he required for
his log.
“You have placed Mr. Maybourne very deeply in your debt,” he said,
after a little further conversation; “and I don’t doubt but there
will be many who will envy your good fortune in having conferred so
signal a service upon his daughter. By the way, you have not told us
your own name.”
My heart gave a great jump, and for the moment I seemed to feel
myself blushing to the roots of my hair. After the great kindness I
had already received from everyone on board the vessel, it seemed
worse than ungrateful to deceive them. But I dared not tell the
truth. For all I knew to the contrary, my name might have been
proclaimed everywhere in England before they left.
“My name is Wrexford,” I said, feeling about as guilty as a man
could well do.
“Any relation to the Wrexfords of Shrewsbury?” asked the Captain
with mild curiosity.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered. “I have been living out of
England for many years, and have no knowledge of my relations.
“It’s not a common name,” continued the skipper; “that is why I
ask. Sir George Wrexford is one of our directors, and a splendid
fellow. I thought it was just possible that you might be some
connection of his. Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll be off. Take my
advice and turn in early. I’m sorry to say we’re carrying our full
complement of passengers, so that I cannot give you a proper berth;
but I’ve ordered a bed to be made up for you in my chart-room, where
you have been all day to-day. If you can manage to make yourself
comfortable there it is quite at your service.”
“It is very kind of you to put yourself to so much inconvenience,”
I answered. “I fear by the time we reach Cape Town I shall have
caused you a considerable amount of trouble.”
“Not at all! Not at all!” the hospitable skipper replied, as he
rose to go. “I’m only too glad to have picked you up. It’s our duty
to do what we can for each other, for we none of us know when we may
be placed in a similar plight ourselves.”
After he left me, I was not long in following the good advice he
had given me; and when I had once reached my couch, fell into a
dreamless sleep, from which I did not wake until after eight o’clock
next morning. Indeed, I don’t know that I should have waked even
then, had I not been disturbed by the noise made by someone entering
the cabin. It proved to be the doctor.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked, when he had felt my
pulse.
“Ever so much better,” I replied. “In fact, I think I’m quite
myself again. How is Miss Maybourne?”
“Still progressing satisfactorily,” he answered. “She bids me give
you her kind regards. She has been most constant in her enquiries
after your welfare.”
I don’t know whether my face had revealed my secret, or whether it
was only supposition on his part, but he looked at me pretty hard for
a moment, and then laughed outright.
“You may not know it,” he said, “but when all’s said and done,
you’re a jolly lucky fellow.”
I sighed, and hesitated a moment before I replied.
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” I said. “Luck and I have never been
companions. I
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