It would have been nearer the truth had she admitted that she had felt a little out of it because Sir John was particularly kind and attentive to Miss Esther, showing her the points of interest, explaining things—and going out of his way to make her feel that he liked her company.
“She’s not a bit silly,” Rocky protested indignantly.
“Well, she bores me,” Edith maintained.
“Stop wrangling, children,” Clive interrupted. “We’re at the glove shop.”
Rocky only bought one pair, and she refused to allow Clive to give her any more.
“I’ve got my little statue and that’s more than enough,” she said firmly, though she cast a wistful glance at the piles of gloves of all sorts and colours and descriptions which Gina was having packed into a box.
Was Wheeler paying for them she wondered?
They drove round the town, and then along by the sea back to the ship.
“And that’s another lovely day gone,” Rocky said regretfully as they went on board.
“You’ll see it all again coming back,” Miss Esther reminded her.
“Perhaps she won’t come back,” Clive said daringly.
Rocky dived down to her cabin without answering. She was feeling a little tired now, and she put the statue of the boy with the thorn in his foot on the dressing-table and sat down on the bed to admire it.
Perhaps everyone had a thorn somewhere, she thought—she had, anyway—an ugly thorn in the shape of a cablegram which had, as it were, descended from the blue to overwhelm her.
“Like the lava from Vesuvius overwhelming the Romans,” she thought fancifully. And then, because she did not want to think or to look back, she washed and changed her coat and skirt for a cool frock and went back on deck.
Already the bustle of departure was everywhere, and the long gangways had been withdrawn.
“So I can’t go back, even if I wanted to,” Rocky thought, and she wished that it were possible to separate oneself from the past as simply—just by hauling in a gangway.
“And did Naples come up to expectations?” Wheeler asked, beside her.
“Oh yes,” Rocky answered. “I think it’s beautiful—I could have stayed for weeks and weeks.” And then half defiantly she asked: “And did Mademoiselle enjoy it too?”
“Mademoiselle has been here before,” he answered.
Rocky frowned. “That isn’t any reason why she couldn’t have enjoyed it,” she insisted childishly.
“She seemed quite happy,” he admitted.
The girl glanced at him and away again; she wanted to ask, “And were you happy too?” But there was a little silence till he said formally:
“I hope your cable was not bad news.”
Rocky’s fingers tightened their hold of the ship’s rail.
“Oh no, thank you,” she said airily; and then hurriedly she asked: “Where do we stop next? I forget.”
“Port Said.”
“And is that beautiful too?”
Wheeler hesitated. “It’s different,” he said at last. “It’s not beautiful to look at, but I think you will find it interesting if you have not been there before.” And then he asked the question she had unconsciously longed for him to ask. “May I take you ashore at Port Said?”
She turned her head, her cheeks flushing.
“Alone?” she asked impulsively, and then, wishing that the deck might open and swallow her up, she rushed on: “I mean, are we going to have a big party like we had today?”
“That is for you to decide,” he answered.
“No, for you to decide,” she corrected him swiftly.
They looked at one another, and then, as behind Wheeler’s shoulder she saw Clive approaching, Rocky said in a breathless undertone: “Can we go alone? At least, if you don’t mind.”
“We’ll go alone,” he answered.
Clive looked at them rather suspiciously.
“Doesn’t anyone want a drink?” he enquired. “Sir John wants us all in the smoking-room for a cocktail.”
“Early, isn’t it?” Wheeler said.
“It’s never too early for good things,” Rocky declared; she felt as if she was treading on air once more. “Come along—I’m thirsty, if nobody else is.”
The party already gathered in the smoking-room was conspicuous for the absence of Miss Esther.
“Where’s Miss Esther?” Rocky asked at once.
It was Constance who answered. “The Dragon hauled her off as soon as we came on board, and I expect she’s been slapped and sent to bed.”
“Oh, but what a shame!” Rocky turned to the door. “I’ll bring her back—keep a seat for me, someone.”
She hurried down to Miss Esther’s cabin and knocked.
There was no reply, although she could hear voices inside; but when she knocked again the door was opened and Miss Pawson’s cold face appeared.
“I’ve come to fetch Miss Esther for a cocktail,” Rocky said firmly.
Miss Esther’s scared voice came from the far end of the cabin. “Oh, thank you, but I don’t want a cocktail, really I don’t, thank you all the same. I’ll just rest till dinner-time—it’s been a very tiring day, and my sister thinks I ought to rest until dinner-time.”
Rocky treated the elder Miss Pawson to her most disarming smile.
“I’m sure you don’t really mean that,” she said. “I’m sure you’d really love Miss Esther to have a cocktail, wouldn’t you?” she appealed; and then with sudden daring: “And you come, too— everyone will be so pleased. Do come, won’t you?”
Miss Pawson drew up her thin figure to its full height.
“I cannot imagine that it would be any more pleasure to anyone in this ship than it would be to me if I joined your party as you suggest,” she said frigidly. “But if my sister likes to do so—well, she is an entirely free agent, although——”
There was a hurried little movement from the far end of the cabin. “Oh, thank you, thank you,” Miss Esther said, and the next moment she and Rocky were speeding away together like a couple of schoolgirls.
“I should never have dared to come but for you,” Miss Esther whispered. “Sir John did ask me, but I knew my sister would not approve.” She caught Rocky’s hand in a grateful clasp. “How sweet of you to come for me!” she said.
“I’ve got her,” Rocky announced as they entered the smoking-room. She pushed Miss Esther forward. “There you are! There’s a chair next to Sir John, and I’ll sit here next to Mr. Wheeler.”
“I am indeed honoured,” Wheeler said.
She flung him a little reproachful glance; it was so like him to speak formally just when for a moment she had imagined they were friends, but she lost her feeling of disappointment later on when she went down to dress for dinner, for on the dressing-table beside the boy with the thorn in his foot was a small parcel with her name on the label.
She had never seen Wheeler’s handwriting, but instinctively she knew it was from him, and her hands trembled as she cut the string. “From Richard Wheeler”—and beneath the little card was a handbag in delicate Chinese work.
Rocky gasped and clasped her hands in ecstasy as a child might have done. “Oh! … how perfectly lovely!”
It was just what she had wanted; she had seen similar bags in the shops that morning, but the price had been far beyond her means, though Constance and Edith had each bought one.
“Oh, how lovely!” she said again softly.
She opened all the little compartments—each one lined with white silk; she took out the small mirror and stared at her flushed reflection, and then she picked up the card again to once more read his name.
“From Richard Wheeler.”
How kind of him, how more than kind! She felt the tears rising to her eyes.
She hurried with her dressing and went up to search for him. If only she could find him alone for a moment—to thank him properly for his generosity.
But he was walking up and down the deck with Clive, and she felt it imposs
ible to say anything.
She walked between them, her eyes on the fast-receding coastal lights, listening vaguely while they talked, now and then throwing in a word, wishing impatiently that someone would call Clive away. But nobody obliged, and presently they all went down together to dinner.
Edith’s seat at the table was empty, and Mrs. Bumpus was also absent.
“She’s tired out,” her husband explained, pausing for a moment at the Second Officer’s table. “The walking was too much for her.” He shook his head ruefully and passed on.
“And Edith’s got a splitting headache,” Constance announced. “She always gets a splitting headache when she’s had a day’s enjoyment,” she added with sarcasm.
“They say we British take our pleasures sadly,” the Second Officer said; and then to Rocky: “But you look as fresh as ever, Miss Chandler.”
“I feel as fresh as ever,” she said gaily. “And if anyone is prepared to ask me to dance after dinner—well, say the word!”
There was an immediate chorus from the three men:
“Will you dance?”
Rocky laughed merrily, and Sir John looked across at her and smiled. But after dinner Constance said to her brother:
“Can’t you see how that girl is setting her cap at you?”
Clive stared down at her blankly.
“What girl?”
His sister frowned.
“Rocky Chandler, of course. You know quite well who I mean. I think it’s disgusting the way she flings herself at everyone’s head.”
Clive flushed. “Don’t be a cat,” he said shortly. “Rocky hasn’t flung herself at anyone’s head; she treats us all alike—unfortunately,” he added.
She stared at him. “Don’t tell me you’re in love with her,” she said in exasperation. “What’s the use of you. being in love with anyone? You’re not making a shilling, and you know what father will say——”
“Father won’t be asked,” Clive retorted. “And you’re not being asked, either.” Constance made one last determined effort.
“You’ve only known her a few days—you don’t know anything about her—who she is, or where she comes from! And she never speaks about her family. She’s probably just an adventuress—you always meet them on board ship.”
Clive turned on his heel.
“You’re jealous of her,” he said sharply. “And I don’t wonder, either—but you need not be spiteful as well.” And he walked away.
But in spite of himself, his sister’s words rankled a little. One did meet the adventuress type on board—and it was true that Rocky never spoke about her people! Still, why should she? He had hardly mentioned his own family to her. He suddenly remembered the cablegram she had received, and the subtle change in her expression as she stuffed it into her coat pocket.
Clive shrugged his shoulders and tried to dismiss the whole subject from his mind, but the fact that he had very sincerely fallen in love with Rocky made everything connected with her seem of great importance, and he knew he would have been far happier had she been travelling with a complacent mother or a maiden aunt—or just someone who would have been a sure guarantee of respectability.
The band had started to play on the promenade deck, but, although he had intended to ask Rocky for the first dance, he walked away to the far end of the ship to smoke a solitary cigarette. It would do no harm for her to miss him, he decided—he had spent a disappointing day with the Personally Conducted, and he felt that Rocky should be made to feel his disapproval. Not that she had actually been to blame—it had been just sheer kind-heartedness that had made her include everyone in the party.
That was the worst of Rocky—and the best of her: you forgave her everything because she did her utmost to see that everyone had a good time. Clive felt perplexed and worried; ashamed of himself for the little doubt which had crept into his mind, and yet realising that there was some justification for it. So he sat down in a deck-chair in the darkness and tried to feel that he was behaving in a masterful, determined fashion, while Rocky came racing up the companion stairs, looking round eagerly for someone to dance with. Nobody much about yet—except the two Miss Pawsons sitting side by side, both knitting furiously.
Rocky checked a smile, realising how Miss Esther must be hating it, and that she was probably longing to throw the green, half-finished garment into the sea and to join more congenial company.
Then the Second Officer appeared, and, catching sight of Rocky, he came quickly forward.
“My luck’s in,” he said cheerfully. “Come and dance.” And he whirled Rocky away.
“In my opinion,” the elder Miss Pawson said in her frozen voice, “officers should not be allowed to dance with the passengers. Supposing something happened to the ship? We might run on the rocks, or into a fog—you never know.”
“Are there any rocks here?” Miss Esther asked timidly.
“Of course there are,” her sister retorted. “There are rocks everywhere in the sea.”
“But there is more than one officer,” Miss Esther ventured.
“You are talking about things you do not understand,” Miss Pawson said coldly. “And the number of officers has nothing whatever to do with the question. They should all be on the watch.”
Miss Esther raised her eyes to the star-studded sky. She longed to ask, “On the watch—for what?” but as she knew she was already in disgrace she thought silence was the better part of valour.
But she had spent a heavenly day. Sir John had been—oh, such a darling! And at the daring thought her knitting needles clicked more speedily, for never since the days of the half-hearted curate who had so often smiled at her across the supper-table had she ever dared to think of any man as a darling.
But she gave such a deep sigh that Miss Pawson turned to look at her.
“Every time you sigh your heart loses a drop of blood,” she remarked as if she were reproving a schoolgirl.
“Does it?” Miss Esther asked meekly, and she wondered, if that were true, how many drops of blood her heart had lost since she came on board.
She looked at Rocky and her eyes softened; it must be wonderful to be so young and attractive, and there was not a spark of envy in the thought. She loved to watch Rocky enjoying herself; she and the Second Officer made such a handsome pair. Perhaps there was a little budding romance between them; she liked to think that there was. She would have been disappointed could she have heard the Second Officer saying at that very moment: “Yes, we’ve been engaged three years, but there’s not much hope of us getting married yet. She’s got an invalid mother, you see, and she helps to keep the home going—my girl does, I mean. She’s got a job in a newspaper office. And my pay isn’t anything to lift the roof off—so we decided to wait a bit.”
“Then I suppose you don’t see much of one another,” Rocky said sympathetically.
“Not much,” he admitted. “But it would be the same if we were married. That’s the worst of marrying a sailor.”
The music stopped.
“That was lovely,” Rocky said, and her eyes searched the deck once more for Wheeler. She was longing to thank him for his gift, and she was sure that he must be wondering why she had not gone out of her way to find him. And then she thought that it was odd she had not searched for him. If it had been Clive she would have run helter-skelter to find where he was and to tell him of her delight. But the two men were so totally different—she could tease Clive, and even take hold of his arm without feeling in the least self-conscious about it, but with Wheeler——
“Care to dance again?” her companion asked.
“Oh, yes please.” And it was just as they moved away that Wheeler appeared alone.
“That would happen,” Rocky thought with a sigh as, after watching the dancers for a moment, he turned and walked away.
“I think you ought to dance with Constance,” Rocky said later, and the Second Officer made a little grimace.
“She’s got such a sharp tongue,” he protested.
“She makes me feel as if I’m a naughty boy who ought to be standing in the corner.”
“She doesn’t mean it,” Rocky assured him, “and I’m sure she dances beautifully.” She dropped him a little curtsy. “And thank you very much on behalf of myself and friends,” she said saucily, and left him.
And now where was Wheeler? Perhaps if he walked in the opposite way to that in which he had gone they might come face to face, but although she went the round of the promenade deck twice there was no sign of him.
She peeped into the smoking-room, where Mr. Bumpus was smoking an unromantic-looking pipe and playing patience.
Rocky went up to him.
“Won’t it come out?” she asked sympathetically.
He looked up at her.
“It never does,” he said. “I get almost to the last card, and there I stick.” He swept the pack into a heap. “I think I’ll go to bed,” he added. “Unless——” He hesitated. “I suppose you don’t care to have a game?” he asked shyly.
“Love it,” Rocky said briskly, and sat down opposite to him.
They played three games, two of which she cleverly allowed him to win. “There you are, you see!” she said gaily. “I’ve brought you luck.”
He looked at her a little wistfully.
“We had a daughter,” he said. “You remind me of her a little—but she died when she was fourteen.”
“Oh,” Rocky said softly. She touched his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, it made all the difference to us both,” he admitted heavily. “We shouldn’t have been on this wild-goose chase if she’d lived—there would have been better ways of spending the money we’ve saved.” Rocky did not know what to say, but she thought suddenly of her own father. He would not have cared at all if she had died, or would he? Her pretty face hardened, and she said:
“I’ve always noticed—perhaps you have, too—that people who have children don’t seem frightfully pleased about it, and those who haven’t always wish they had.”
Mr. Bumpus smiled, and shook his head.
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “But I think only children are a mistake. Have you any brothers and sisters, my dear?”
“No, only me,” Rocky said quaintly. She began to pack the cards away in their cases. “We’ll have another game tomorrow,” she said. “But by then I expect Mrs. Bumpus will be all right, won’t she?”
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