Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters

by Jane Austen; Ben H. Winters

  “He intends to dispatch his ship’s boy into Somersetshire immediately for it,” she added, “and when it arrives we will gaze at it and feed it algae every day. You shall share its use with me. Imagine to yourself, my dear Elinor, the delight of watching it describe little circles in its tank.”

  Most unwilling was she to comprehend all the unhappy truths which attended the affair; and for some time she refused to submit to them. Elinor then ventured to doubt the propriety of her receiving such a present from a man so little, or at least so lately known to her. This was too much.

  “You are mistaken, Elinor,” said Marianne warmly, “in supposing I know very little of Willoughby. I have not known him long indeed, but I am much better acquainted with him, than I am with any other creature in the world, except yourself and Mama. It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others. I should hold myself guilty of greater impropriety in accepting a sea horse from my brother, than from Willoughby. Of John I know very little, though we have lived together for years; but of Willoughby my judgment was formed the moment when first he hacked off the impossibly strong tentacle that had encircled me.”

  Elinor thought it wisest to touch that point no more. She knew her sister’s temper. Opposition on so tender a subject would only attach her the more to her own opinion. But by representing the inconveniences which the tending of the sea horse would represent to their mother, Marianne was shortly subdued; and she promised not to tempt her mother to such imprudent kindness by mentioning the offer, and to tell Willoughby that it must be declined.

  She was faithful to her word; and when Willoughby arrived in his swift, dashing one-man kayak later the same day, Elinor heard her express her disappointment to him in a low voice, on being obliged to forego the acceptance of the sea horse; he said, “What about a sea monkey? Or a starfish?” and she declined those as well. He replied, in the same low voice, “But, Marianne, the sea horse is still yours, though you cannot use it now. I shall keep it only till you can claim it. When you leave this desolate cove to form your own establishment in a more lasting home, King James the Sea Horse shall receive you.”

  This was all overheard by Elinor, and in the whole of the sentence, and in his addressing her sister by her Christian name alone, she instantly saw a meaning so direct as marked a perfect agreement between them. From that moment she doubted not of their being engaged to each other; and was surprised that neither she, nor any of their friends, should be told of the fact directly.

  Margaret related something to her the next day, which placed this matter in a still clearer light. Willoughby had spent the preceding evening with them, and Margaret, who had been sitting by herself in a corner of the parlour, sketching a rough map of Pestilent Isle as she now understood its dimensions, had had opportunity for observations, which, with a most important face, she communicated to her eldest sister, when they were next by themselves.

  “Oh, Elinor!” she cried, “I have two secrets to tell you. The first relates to Marianne. I am sure she will be married to Mr. Willoughby very soon. For he has got a lock of her hair.”

  “Take care, Margaret,” said Elinor. “It may be only the hair of some great uncle of his.”

  “But, indeed, Elinor, it is Marianne’s. I am almost sure it is, for I saw him cut it off. Last night after tea, when you and Mama went out of the room, they were whispering and talking together as fast as could be, and he seemed to be begging something of her, and presently he took up her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair, for it was all tumbled down her back; and he kissed it, and folded it up in a piece of white paper; and put it into his pocketbook.”

  For such particulars, stated on such authority, Elinor could not withhold her credit, but to Margaret’s second secret, though it pressed heavier on the child’s breast than the first, Elinor gave no credit at all—some complicated tomfoolery about a system of caves supposedly to be found on the island’s southern face, and a tribal race that dwelt therein. . . . Elinor, her mind caught up in Marianne’s engagement, chided Margaret for telling tall tales and sent her early and protesting, to bed.

  Margaret’s sagacity as related to her sisters’ affections was not always displayed in a way so satisfactory to Elinor. One evening on Deadwind Island, Mrs. Jennings asked Margaret to supply the name of the young man who was Elinor’s particular favourite. Margaret answered by looking at her sister, and saying, “I must not tell, may I, Elinor?”

  This of course made everybody laugh; and Elinor tried to laugh too. But the effort was painful. She was convinced that Margaret had fixed on a person whose name she could not bear to become a standing joke with Mrs. Jennings.

  Marianne felt for her most sincerely; but she did more harm than good to the cause, by turning very red and saying in an angry manner to Margaret, “Remember that whatever your conjectures may be, you have no right to repeat them.”

  “I never had any conjectures about it,” replied Margaret; “it was you who told me of it yourself.”

  This increased the mirth of the company, and Mrs. Jennings pressed the young girl to say something more. “Oh! Pray, Miss Margaret, let us know all about it. I will help you get him, Elinor, by my troth—I know an incantation, which if said at the proper pace on a properly moonlit night, will win any man! Margaret, what is the gentleman’s name?”

  “Margaret,” interrupted Marianne with great warmth, “you know that all this is an invention of your own, and that there is no such person in existence.”

  “Well, then, he is lately dead, Marianne, for I am sure there was such a man once, and his name begins with an F. But I beg you all to dispense with such trivialities, given the dark truths that lie on this island, just beneath the surface of—”

  But the assembled company, led by Mrs. Jennings, had degenerated into further raillery, and no one heard. Most grateful did Elinor feel to Lady Middleton for observing, as the laughter reached its apex, “that the odor of the rainfall is particularly sulfurous today,” though she believed this innocuous interruption to proceed less from any attention to her, than from her ladyship’s great dislike of all such inelegant subjects of raillery as delighted her husband and mother. The idea however started by her, was immediately pursued by Colonel Brandon, who was on every occasion mindful of the feelings of others; and much was said on the subject of rain, its persistence, and insufferable redolence by both of them. Willoughby took out his ukulele, and asked Marianne to perform a highland fling; and thus amidst the various endeavours of different people to quit the topic, it fell to the ground. But not so easily did Elinor recover from the alarm into which it had thrown her.

  A party was formed this evening for sailing on the following day on Sir John’s old three-master, the Shell-Cracker, to the sunken wreck of the HMS Mary, a grand battleship of the English armada that had been sunk in a fierce fight with a kraken some decades ago, and which sat mouldering on the sea floor a quarter-mile out from Skull Island, in the farthest reaches of the archipelago. The deserted ship, with coral and madrepore growing along its bulwarks, and the salt-corroded skeletons of its crew still tragically manning their battle stations, was declared to be a thing of wonder, and Sir John, who was particularly warm in its praise, might be allowed to be a tolerable judge, for he had formed parties to visit it at least twice every summer for the last ten years.

  Colonel Brandon was designated the co-host of the expedition, for, as Sir John delicately explained to the Dashwoods, his condition allowed him to breathe underwater, and thus to lead the others of the party, one by one, in and out of the sunken hull, and swiftly swim them back to the surface when their lungs were depleted. This feat of sustained immersion, Sir John noted, was one Brandon did not undertake often, wishing not to remind his acquaintance of his peculiarity—as if anyone, Mrs. Jennings added impishly, could long forget it.

  Cold provisions were to
be taken, along with playing cards, harpoons, and many yards of mosquito netting; everything conducted in the usual style of a complete party of pleasure.

  To some few of the company it appeared rather a bold undertaking, considering the time of year, and that it had rained that thick, sulfurous rain every day for the last fortnight; and Mrs. Dashwood, who had already a cold, was persuaded by Elinor to stay at home.

  CHAPTER 13

  THEIR INTENDED EXCURSION to the sunken ship turned out very different from what Elinor had expected. She was prepared to be wet through, fatigued, frightened, and possibly attacked, bitten, or maimed; but the event was still more unfortunate, for they did not go at all.

  By ten o’clock the whole party was assembled at Sir John’s fortified establishment on Deadwind Island, where they were to breakfast. The morning was rather favourable, though it had rained all night, as the clouds were then dispersing across the sky, and the sun waged valiant battle against the low-hanging fog. They were all in high spirits and good humour, eager to be happy, and determined to submit to the greatest inconveniences and hardships rather than be otherwise.

  While they were at breakfast the letters were brought in. Among the rest there was one for Colonel Brandon; he took it, looked at the return address, and changed colour. As they watched him read, his droopy facial appendages appeared to tie themselves into knots of emotion, and then he left the room.

  “What is the matter with Brandon?” said Sir John.

  Nobody could tell.

  “I hope he has had no bad news,” said Lady Middleton. “It must be something extraordinary that could make Colonel Brandon leave my breakfast table so suddenly.”

  In about five minutes, he returned.

  “No bad news, Colonel, I hope,” said Mrs. Jennings, as soon as he entered the room.

  “None at all, ma’am, I thank you. It came from Sub-Marine Station Beta, and is merely a letter of business.”

  “But how came the hand to discompose you so much, if it was only a letter of business? Come, come, this won’t do, Colonel; so let us hear the truth of it.”

  “My dear madam,” said Lady Middleton, “recollect what you are saying.”

  “Perhaps it is to tell you that your cousin is married?” said Mrs. Jennings, without attending to her daughter’s reproof.

  “No, indeed, it is not.”

  “Well, then, I know who it is from, Colonel. And I hope she is well.”

  “Whom do you mean, ma’am?” said he, his tentacles fluttering wetly with embarrassment.

  “Oh! You know who I mean.”

  “I am particularly sorry, ma’am,” said he, addressing Lady Middleton, “that I should receive this letter today, for it is on business which requires my immediate attendance at Sub-Station Beta.”

  “Nonsense!” cried Mrs. Jennings. “What can you have to do on the Sub-Marine Station at this time of year?”

  “My own loss is great,” he continued, “in being obliged to leave so agreeable a party; but I am the more concerned, as I fear my presence is necessary to enable your exploration of the sunken battleship.”

  What a blow upon them all was this!

  “We must go,” said Sir John. “It shall not be put off when we are so near it. You cannot go to the Station till to-morrow, Brandon, that is all.”

  “I wish it could be so easily settled. But it is not in my power to delay my journey for one day!”

  “Oh, do not allow your tentacles to become twisted! You would not be six hours later,” said Willoughby, “if you were to defer your journey till our return.” He wore his full diving costume and helmet for the expedition, and had left Monsieur Pierre, who was not a strong swimmer, at home.

  “I cannot afford to lose one hour.”

  Willoughby felt the disappointment all the more keenly than the others of the party, as he had heard rumours that a chest of treasure still sat in the captain’s cabin of the Mary, and it was his firm intention to find and crack it. Elinor heard him say, in a low voice to Marianne, “There are some people who cannot bear a party of pleasure. Brandon is one of them. He was afraid of catching cold, or being mistaken for a mating partner by a she-squid; and he invented this trick for getting out of the trip. I would lay fifty guineas the letter was of his own writing.”

  “I have no doubt of it,” replied Marianne.

  “There is no persuading you to change your mind, Brandon, I know of old,” said Sir John, “when once you are determined on anything. I can tell your resolution even now, by the way your appendages point towards the door. But, however, I hope you will think better of it.

  Colonel Brandon again repeated his sorrow at being the cause of disappointing the party—but at the same time declared it to be unavoidable.

  “Well, then, when will you come back again?”

  “I hope we shall see you at Deadwind Island,” added her ladyship, “as soon as you can conveniently return to us from Sub-Marine Station Beta; and we must put off the party to the shipwreck till you return.”

  “You are very obliging. But it is so uncertain, when I may have it in my power to return, that I dare not engage for it at all.”

  “Oh! He must and shall come back,” cried Sir John. “If he is not here by the end of the week, I shall go after him.”

  “Aye, so do, Sir John,” cried Mrs. Jennings, “and then perhaps you may find out what his business is.”

  “I do not want to pry into other men’s concerns. I suppose it is something he is ashamed of.”

  Colonel Brandon’s vessel was announced.

  “Well, as you are resolved to go, I wish you a good journey,” said Sir John. “But you had better change your mind.”

  “I assure you it is not in my power.”

  He then took leave of the whole party.

  “Is there no chance of my seeing you and your sisters at Sub-Marine Station Beta this winter, Miss Dashwood?”

  “I am afraid, none at all. We have no business there or docking station of our own.”

  “Then I must bid you farewell for a longer time than I should wish to do.”

  To Marianne, he merely bowed, gave a polite tip of the tentacles, and said nothing. “Come Colonel,” said Mrs. Jennings, “before you go, do let us know what you are going about.”

  He wished her a good morning, and attended by Sir John, left the room.

  The complaints and lamentations which politeness had hitherto restrained, now burst forth universally; and they all agreed again and again how provoking it was to be so disappointed. Then Mrs. Jennings animatedly relayed what she suspected to be the reason of Colonel Brandon’s hasty departure.

  “It is about Miss Williams, I am sure.”

  “And who is Miss Williams?” asked Marianne.

  “What! Do not you know who Miss Williams is? I am sure you must have heard of her before. She is a relation of the colonel’s, my dear; a very near relation. We will not say how near, for fear of shocking the young ladies.” Mrs. Jennings paused to make a leering, insinuating expression, and then said to Elinor, “She is his natural daughter.”

  “Indeed!”

  “Oh, yes; and as like him as she can stare.”

  “Like him?” said Marianne. “You mean . . .”

  “She’s even got the . . .” echoed Elinor, trailing off and making a vague gesture towards her face.

  “Oh yes,” Sir John confirmed. “I dare say the colonel will leave her all his fortune.”

  Sir John then changed the subject to the predicament of the cancelled journey, observing that they must do something by way of being happy; and after some consultation it was agreed that they might procure a tolerable composure of mind by embarking on a brief pleasure tour of some of the tiniest specks of land that composed the outer ring of the archipelago. The yachts were then ordered; Willoughby’s was first, bearing proudly on its hull his distinctive monogram, a handsome W shaped from four treasure-digging shovels; and Marianne never looked happier than when she got into it. They were sailed by its ex
pert crew through the inlet very fast, and they were soon out of sight; and nothing more of them was seen till their return, which did not happen till after the return of all the rest.

  Some more came to dinner, and they had the pleasure of sitting down nearly twenty to table, which Sir John observed with great contentment. For this occasion, Lady Middleton took great pleasure in slow-roasting the bile ducts of a whole family of sloths. Willoughby took his usual place between the two elder Miss Dashwoods. Mrs. Jennings sat on Elinor’s right hand; and they had not been long seated, before she leant behind her and Willoughby, and said to Marianne, loud enough for them both to hear, “I have found you out in spite of all your tricks. I know where you spent the morning.”

  Marianne coloured, and replied very hastily, “Where, pray?”

  “Did not you know,” said Willoughby, “that we had been out touring the islands, like the others of the company?”

  “Yes, yes, Mr. Impudence, I know that very well, and I was determined to find out where you had been to. I hope you like your house, Miss Marianne. It is a very large one, and well fortified!” She gave a satisfied wink and happily slurped a mouthful of her sloth bile.

  Marianne turned away in great confusion. Mrs. Jennings laughed heartily and explained that in her resolution to know where they had been, she had actually made her own woman enquire of Mr. Willoughby’s yachtsman; by that method she had been informed that they had gone to the manor belonging to Willoughby’s aunt, on Allenham Isle, and spent a considerable time there in admiring the hanging caverns and going all over the house.

  Elinor could hardly believe this to be true, as it seemed very unlikely that Willoughby should propose, or Marianne consent, to enter the house while Mrs. Smith was in it, with whom Marianne had not the smallest acquaintance. As soon as they left the dining-room, Elinor enquired of her about it; and great was her surprise when she found that every circumstance suggested by Mrs. Jennings was perfectly true. Marianne was quite angry with her for doubting it.

  “Why should you imagine, Elinor, that we did not go beach Willoughby’s yacht there or that we did not see the house? Is not it what you have often wished to do yourself?”