Part 17 (2/2)

She saw quickly that Barker had perceived that some embarra.s.sment existed, and was spending his best strength in trying to make the meal a particularly gay one. But she could not understand how Barker could have found out that there was any difficulty. Had Claudius been making confidences? It would have been very foolish for him to do so, and besides, Claudius was not the man to make confidences. He was reticent and cold as a rule, and Barker had more than once confessed to the Countess that he knew very little of Claudius's previous history, because the latter ”never talked,” and would not always answer questions. So she came to the conclusion that Barker only suspected something, because the Doctor had not been with her during the day. And so she laughed, and Claudius laughed, and they were well satisfied to pay their social obolus in a little well-bred and well-a.s.sumed hilarity.

So the dinner progressed, in spite of the rolling and pitching; for there was a good deal of both, as the sea ran diagonally to the course, breaking on the starboard quarter. They had reached the dessert, and two at least of the party were congratulating themselves on the happy termination of the meal, when, just as the Duke was speaking, there was a heavy lurch, and a tremendous sea broke over their heads. Then came a fearful whirring sound that shook through every plate and timber and bulkhead, like the sudden running down of mammoth clock-work, lasting some twenty seconds; then everything was quiet again save the sea, and the yacht rolled heavily to and fro.

Every one knew that there had been a serious accident, but no one moved from the table. The Duke sat like a rock in his place and finished what he was saying, though no one noticed it. Miss Skeat clutched her silver fruit-knife till her knuckles shone again, and she set her teeth. Mr.

Barker, who had a gla.s.s of wine in the ”fiddle” before him, took it out when the sea struck and held it up steadily to save it from being spilled; and Lady Victoria, who was not the least ashamed of being startled, cried out--

”Goodness gracious!” and then sat holding to the table and looking at her brother.

Margaret and Claudius were sitting next each other on one side of the table. By one of those strange, sympathetic instincts, that only manifest themselves in moments of great danger, they did the same thing at the same moment. Claudius put out his left hand and Margaret her right, and those two hands met just below the table and clasped each other, and in that instant each turned round to the other and looked the other in the face. What that look told man knoweth not, but for one instant there was nothing in the world for Margaret but Claudius. As for him, poor man, he had long known that she was the whole world to him, his life and his death.

It was very short, and Margaret quickly withdrew her hand and looked away. The Duke was the first to speak.

”I do not think it is anything very serious,” said he. ”If you will all sit still, I will go and see what is the matter.” He rose and left the saloon.

”I don't fancy there is any cause for anxiety,” said Barker. ”There has probably been some slight accident to the machinery, and we shall be off again in an hour. I think we ought to compliment the ladies on the courage they have shown; it is perfectly wonderful.” And Mr. Barker smiled gently round the table. Lady Victoria was palpably scared and Miss Skeat was silent. As for Margaret, she was confused and troubled.

The accident of her seizing Claudius's hand, as she had done, was a thousand times more serious than any accident to the s.h.i.+p. The Doctor could not help stealing a glance at her, but he chimed in with Barker in praising the coolness of all three ladies. Presently the Duke came back.

He had been forward by a pa.s.sage that led between decks to the engine-room, where he had met the captain. The party felt rea.s.sured as the ruddy face of their host appeared in the doorway.

”There is nothing to fear,” he said cheerfully. ”But it is a horrid nuisance, all the same.”

”Tell us all about it,” said Lady Victoria.

”Well--we have lost our means of locomotion. We have carried away our propeller.”

”What are you going to do about it?” asked Barker.

”Do? There is nothing to be done. We must sail for it. I am dreadfully sorry.”

”It is not your fault,” said Claudius.

”Well, I suppose not. It happens even to big steamers.”

”And shall we sail all the way to New York?” asked his sister, who was completely rea.s.sured. ”I think it will be lovely.” Miss Skeat also thought sailing much more poetic than steaming.

”I think we must hold a council of war,” said the master. ”Let us put it to the vote. Shall we make for Bermuda, which is actually nearer, but which is four or five days' from New York, or shall we go straight and take our chance of a fair wind?”

”If you are equally willing to do both, why not let the ladies decide?”

suggested Barker.

”Oh no,” broke in the Countess, ”it will be much more amusing to vote.

We will write on slips of paper and put them in a bag.”

”As there are five of you I will not vote,” said the Duke, ”for we might be three on a side, you know.”

So they voted, and there were three votes for New York and two for Bermuda.

”New York has it,” said the Duke, who counted, ”and I am glad, on the whole, for it is Sturleson's advice.” Barker had voted for New York, and he wondered who the two could have been who wanted to go to Bermuda.

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