I said: “The ship … the Lady of the Seas… ?”
“It seems she was on her last legs. Been around a bit. Could be an inquiry.”
I could not grasp what she was talking about.
“Don’t you fret,” she went on.
“You’re safe now. You were one of the lucky ones.”
“The lucky ones.” I was floundering for words which would not come, perhaps because I was afraid to say them.
“What … what happened?”
“She was lost… and quite of number of poor souls with her.”
The Captain? “
“Well, dear, the Captain is always the last to leave the ship, isn’t he?”
It was the ship’s doctor who told me.
He had discovered that Toby was my father and he was very gentle.
He took my hands and said: “You see, it was a violent storm. They get them now and then in these waters. The ship couldn’t stand up to it.
Quite a number of people went down with her. I’m going to give you something to make you sleep. That’s what you need. “
I had lost him. All my happiness, all my dreams of the future . gone. An ageing vessel and a merciless sea had taken that away from me.
I had lost the one I loved above all others. I was aware of nothing but complete desolation.
Echoes from the Past
Elsie was waiting for me when I arrived in Sydney. We clung together in our misery. We hardly spoke at all as we drove to the house. Then she asked a few questions about my leg. The bones were not broken but there were deep cuts and bruises. I had suffered mainly from shock and concussion.
Mabel, Adelaide and Jane were waiting, but the air of well-being had completely disappeared. It was a house in mourning.
Neither Elsie nor I could speak of him on the first night. The great comfort was that our grief was understood and shared. Something had gone from our lives which could never be regained.
I lay sleepless that night. I kept going over scenes from the past. He had filled my life, and now he had gone there was nothing left.
If only we had not been in that spot on that night. Many people had said “If only’ at some time in their lives. If only this … if only that … It was the well-worn cry of those in despair. I thought of that ceremony on the island and the way in which they had tried to hold us back. That wise old man had known that Toby was going into danger. Perhaps he did indeed have special powers. Perhaps he could see into the future. He had lived all his life on that island; he would be weather-wise. He could have seen the signs of the coming storm. He had been warning us, urging us to delay our journey. Oh, if only we had taken heed! If only … if only.
And so I went on.
Daylight came at last a dreary day lay ahead because he was not there and we were weighed down by the dreadful knowledge that we should never see him again.
A few days passed and suddenly we found that we could talk of him.
Elsie recalled stories of him. I would listen and then tell my own.
Then one day she said to me: “Carmel, this won’t do, you know. Think how he would laugh at us if he were here. We had the joy of knowing him, and he brightened our lives. But when something’s over and you know that all the wishing in the world won’t bring it back, you’ve got to accept it as it is. We’ve got to bestir ourselves.”
I said: “You’re right. But how?”
“That’s what we’ve got to find out. We’ve got our friends and we’ve got some good ones.”
She was right. The Formans were always trying to cheer us up. I saw a great deal of James and Gertie. Joe Lester was constantly around; and everyone we knew did all they could to help us. We were constantly invited out to dine and there were a great many callers.
One day Gertie said to me: “I’ve heard from Aunt Beatrice. She’s ever so keen for me to go and see her.”
“You mean, the aunt in England?”
She nodded.
“We always got on when I was little. She didn’t have any children and I think she liked to think of me as hers. We write regularly. Now they’re getting things into shape here, I don’t think they’d mind if I went over to stay with her for a bit.”
“It sounds exciting.”
“Doesn’t it? You ought to come.”
I looked at her in amazement.
“Why not? You can’t mope all your life.”
“Mope …?” I said.
“You’re not like you used to be. I know it was awful and how fond you were of each other, but you can’t go on mourning for ever.”
“Go home,” I murmured.
“My father says if I’m so set on it, I’d better do it. He’ll pay my fare and run to a small allowance while I’m there. You wouldn’t have to bother about that. You’re an independent woman now.”
She was right. Toby had left the bulk of his fortune to me and it was not inconsiderable. Elsie had been taken care of, too. It suddenly occurred to me that, if I wished to, I could travel. Gertie was watching me closely.
“Well?”
“I hadn’t thought about going home.”
“Think about it now. My mother suggested you might like to go with me.
She said it would do you good. Get you out of yourself. You’re never going to get any better while you sit around remembering. What do you think about my going home? “
“I hadn’t thought about it really.”
“You haven’t thought about anything but yourself for the last months.”
Gertie had kept the frankness of our younger days when she had never disguised the truth, however brutal. She went on: “The trouble with you is that you are shut in with yourself. Something awful happened to you and you won’t let yourself-or anyone else-forget it.”
Then suddenly she laid her hand on my arm.
“I’m sorry,” she went on.
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Yes,” I said.
“You should. It’s true.”
“It’s that thing I’ve heard about taking your troubles out and teaching them to swim rather than drowning them.”
I was thoughtful and, after a pause, she went on: “Well, you could consider it.”
I went home and told Elsie what she had said. I knew that Elsie would not want me to go away, and she was very thoughtful as she listened.
To her aunt,” she said.
“Well, we have heard a great deal about Gertie’s aunt. I guessed Gertie would go sometime. She’d made up her mind. I think … perhaps it would do you good to go with her.”
“Do you?”
“There’s nothing like a complete change when these things happen. I rather think you have accepted grief as a permanency. It was such a terrible blow. It was the worst of tragedies. He was so lovable and meant so much to you. We can’t forget him, but he’s gone, and we can’t let him dominate our lives. I am sure, if he were here, he would say the same. You don’t have to decide right away. You should think about it, though.”
“Elsie,” I said, “I should hate to leave you.”
“You mustn’t feel that. I love to have you here, of course. You’ve been my daughter. But you have your life and here … it’s hard to forget. You ought to be meeting people fresh people. You could at home. I have something to tell you. Then you will see that I should not be so lone and lorn that you have to stay and look after me. I am thinking of getting married.”
“Elsie!”
“Yes. Joe and I have been friends for a long time. Toby used to say, ” You would have done better to have married Joe. He’d have made a better husband than I ever would. ” In a way he was right. It wouldn’t have been the same, though. It’s all over now, so Joe and I can marry and it’s what he’s wanted for a long time. And I want it too, so I shouldn’t be alone.”
I was amazed, but when I thought of it, I wondered why I should have been. Perhaps Gertie was right when she said I had been absorbed in my own life. Joe was such a steady friend. There was no dou
bt of his love for Elsie. I thought how amused Toby would have been by the situation, and I found myself smiling for the first time for months. Elsie put her arms round me and hugged me.
“You’ve got to break away from it, too,” she said. And after that I began to think seriously about going home.
I had broken out of that depression in which I had been living for so long, and Gertie carried me along on her enthusiasm. It would be some little time before we could go and Elsie thought we should leave in the New Year. Then we should reach England when spring was on the way, which would be a very good time to arrive.
There was much correspondence with Aunt Beatrice, who lived with her husband. Uncle Harold, in a Kensington square. Gertie remembered staying there.
“It’s what they call a family house,” she explained.
“When they married they thought they’d have a big family. They were still hoping when we left. They were very upset about our going. James and I often stayed with them and they looked forward to having children in the house.”
“Do you think they will want me?”
“Of course! And if you don’t like it, you can go somewhere else. You don’t have to worry about money and all that.”
“It seems very convenient.”
“Convenient! It’s perfect. You’ll love Aunt Bee.”
“I hope she likes me.”
“She will. That’s if you come out of mourning. Nobody will like you if you stick to that. You’ve got to remember there are other people in the world.”
There was no doubt that Gertie was good for me.
The Formans were a little sad at the prospect of Genie’s going. I had an idea that her roots were so firmly set in England that she might not want to come back. Moreover, James would be leaving home for the opal grounds very soon, for it seemed that the property was in good order now and he could go with a good conscience.
I saw James frequently. He was not very pleased about my going.
He said: “You will come back, won’t you?”
“I don’t plan to stay,” I said.
“You might change your mind once you are there.”
“It doesn’t seem likely.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to forget it all and come with me instead?”
“I don’t think that would be right for either of us, James.”
“The offer is still on.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s fun, you know. It would be a complete change.”
“As Gertie is always saying this will be.”
“If you don’t come back I may come for you when I have a fortune to offer.”
“I don’t want a fortune.”
“I know. But it would be nice to have it all the same. Don’t forget me, will you?”
“No. I never would. And thank you for all your under standing.”
“Oh I’m the understanding kind. Remember that too.”
“I will.”
Gertie and I were constantly together. We shopped; we made plans; and in due course booked our passages on the Ocean Star.
Elsie wondered how I would feel about going to sea again. She thought the trauma of shipwreck might have had such an effect on me that I would not be able to bring myself to go again.
I had no qualms. I did mention to Gertie that I should feel closer to Toby at sea, to which she retorted quite rightly “What maudlin nonsense! Don’t say that to any one else or they’ll think you’ve got bats in the belfry. I am going to sea with you, and I don’t want Toby to be with us all the time.”
It was brutal, but it was for my own good, I knew. She went on gently:
“I’ve got the plan of the Ocean Star. My word, she’s a beautiful ship.
Look, we can see exactly where our cabin is. “
It was late January when Gertie and I set sail. Joe and Elsie had married just after Christmas.
It had been a quiet ceremony and Joe had taken up residence at Elsie’s house. I was delighted, because I knew it was what he had wanted for a long time. Elsie too was contented.
Joe’s nephew, William, who had long wanted a property of his own, had taken over the management of Joe’s. Joe kept an interest in it and would always be close at hand to advise. He and Elsie would pay periodic visits to William, and the arrangements were to the utmost satisfaction of both William and Joe, as well as Elsie.
The Formans with Elsie and Joe came to see us off. It was a moving farewell, and even Gertie seemed a little tearful and looked as though she were wondering whether she was wise to make the journey-but only very briefly.
James held my hands tightly and reminded me that I must come back, and added: “Before long, or I shall come for you.”
I nodded, and we kissed.
We stood on the deck, waving to them as the ship slipped away: and I could not help thinking of the day I had first come here on the Lady of the Seas, how Toby had been with me and how happy we were.
Aware of my thoughts, Gertie hustled me off to our cabin and in her practical way sorted out who should have which berth and which wardrobe space should be allotted to me.
I knew there would be much to remind me, but I must stop harking back to the old life. I had to go forward and start afresh.
I was familiar with shipboard life, but every ship is different and although the general rules apply, they are varied slightly to fit in to each particular vessel.
The Captain was very pleasant. He had known Toby and when he realized who I was, and that I had actually been on the Lady of the Seas when she had sunk, he was particularly kind to me.
I realized quickly that I had been right to come, for, looking forward to going home, I could feel myself moving away from my tragedy, and I knew I was getting nearer to adjusting myself to life without Toby. I even convinced myself that he was looking after me, applauding me, urging me along the path I was taking. It helped. But it was inevitable that there must be moments which brought back poignant memories.
It would have been easier if we had not taken almost the same route back to England as that of my first journey out; but I did my best not to think of it, and Gertie was a great help to me. I was always aware of her watchful eyes on me, and I was deeply touched because she did so much want me to enjoy the visit.
I think I managed very well. We had pleasant travelling companions; the weather was benign. Gertie and I usually went ashore with a party from the ship. The story of our getting lost in Suez was related with much hilarity and it struck me afresh how time turns disastrous happenings into comic adventures. However, there was a great deal of laughter about the two little girls who had climbed a rope-ladder to board the ship.
Suez, it seemed, was a place where things happened to us, commented Gertie, for, as we were about to board the launch which was to take us back to the ship, I saw a man who seemed familiar to me.
I stared. Then I recognized him.
“Dr. Emmerson!” I cried.
Gertie was beside me.
“It is!” she exclaimed.
“Really, here of all places!”
He was a little disconcerted. During the passage of time, girls of eleven change more than men in their twenties or thirties. He stood looking at us, faintly puzzled. Then enlightenment dawned.
He laughed.
“Is it really Carmel … and Gertie?”
“Yes, it is,” we cried together.
“Lost in Suez,” he said.
“What a business, getting you on board.”
“With that rope-ladder,” gurgled Gertie.
“Still, we did it. And you are travelling on this ship?”
“Yes. Home.”
“What a coincidence. So am I.”
We chattered as the launch took us out. He told us he had been in Suez for the last two weeks talking to the doctors there. He had a practice in Harley Street and was attached to a London hospital.
“When we last met,” he said, “I was going out to Suez to study at a hospital there. Well, I did
all that, came home and settled, as it were.”
“Do you often go to Suez?” I asked.
“No. Not now. I just happened to pay this flying visit, doing a talk on some new development.”
“How strange that you should be on the same ship as we are, going home.”
“Things happen that way sometimes.”
The voyage changed after that. We saw a great deal of Dr. Emmerson. He seemed to seek me out. At first Gertie was with us, but one of the new arrivals at Suez was Bernard Ragland, and he and Gertie liked each other from the start. He was interested in medieval architecture, and was attached to one of the London museums hardly the kind of subject to attract Gertie, but she suddenly became interested in it.
Dr. Emmerson knew about the shipwreck and he under stood what the loss of Toby meant to me, so I was able to talk frankly to him. I found that a relief and would sit on deck and chat for long stretches at a time. He told me of his life and career, how he had worked for a time in Suez. He spoke of the suffering he had seen there among the poor, and somehow he drew me away from my personal tragedy as no one had before; and he made me see that Gertie was right when she had said that I had indulged too much in brooding on my own misfortunes.
Looking back on that voyage, I see that a great deal happened during it and no one could have said it was uneventful.
The sea had been especially kind to us, even in those areas where it could be notoriously unpredictable. We had sailed smoothly; we had met pleasant acquaintances some of whom we had made tentative arrangements to see again, which would most likely never materialize; in fact, it had been a trip like many others superficially, but it was to be important, not only to me, but to Gertie.
As soon as I stepped ashore in the company of Dr. Emmerson, Gertie and Bernard Ragland I knew that I had passed an important barrier. I had set a distance between myself and the past.
Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Harold were waiting to greet us. Gertie rushed into Aunt Beatrice’s arms.
“You’re here, you’re here!” cried Aunt Beatrice. She was plump and rosy and rather large. Uncle Harold was thin and slightly shorter. He stood looking on, faintly embarrassed, but pleased and as welcoming in his way as Aunt Beatrice was in hers.
The Black Opal Page 17
