Part 20 (1/2)
”And supposing,” said I, after listening to this disheartening recital--”supposing that your relatives will _not_ help you, have you any plans laid to meet such a contingency? 'Hope for the best and provide for the worst' is a favourite motto of your friend Bob; and I really think it is singularly applicable in your case.”
”No,” she replied rather despondently: ”no very definite plan, that is.
I am fairly well educated, I believe. Dear mamma was most accomplished, I have often heard papa say, and she taught me everything she knew. I speak French, German, and Italian, and seem to have a natural apt.i.tude for music; and I sketch a little in water-colours. I have all my materials with me, and a few sketches which I may perhaps be able to sell when I reach home--I will let you see them some day--and I think I may perhaps be able to get a situation as governess, or maintain myself respectably by teaching music and drawing. And then, you know, I am not absolutely dest.i.tute. I have about twenty pounds with me, and I sent home three hundred, the proceeds of the sale of our furniture, to England; and some friends of poor papa's in Canton say they are sure he must have some money invested somewhere, and they have promised to find out if it really is so, and to realise it for me; and I have given them the necessary powers to do so; so you see I shall not land in England actually a beggar.”
”G.o.d forbid!” I earnestly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”With regard to your landing in England, I ought perhaps to tell you that you must not hope to do so very soon. We are now in a part of the world quite out of the usual track of s.h.i.+ps, and I fear it may be some time before we shall fall in with any, and when we do, it is questionable whether they will be quite the cla.s.s of vessel you would like to make the voyage home in. My great hope is that we may soon fall in with a sandalwood trader, in which case you would have an opportunity of returning to China, and re-s.h.i.+pping from thence home.”
”I hope we shall,” she responded; rather dolefully, I thought. ”You have been very good to me, and,”--her eyes welling up with tears--”I shall never forget you; but I know my presence must be a great inconvenience and embarra.s.sment to you.”
”Pray stop!” I interrupted. ”You are under the greatest misapprehension if you suppose your presence on board the _Water Lily_ is any other than a source of the most unqualified gratification to her crew. You are evidently quite ignorant of the beneficent influences of your presence here, or you would never have spoken of it as an inconvenience. Your departure will occasion us the keenest regret whenever it takes place, and were it not that our cramped accommodations must occasion you very considerable discomfort, I should rejoice at almost any circ.u.mstance which would necessitate your remaining with us for the rest of the voyage.”
”Do you really mean it?” she exclaimed, her sweet face brightening up at once. ”Oh, I am _so_ glad! Do you know I have thought your anxiety to meet with a s.h.i.+p arose from my being in your way, and troublesome. And you are really willing to let me remain, and go home with you? How very kind it is of you! I will be quite good, and do whatever you tell me; and, indeed, I will not cause you the least bit of trouble. And,”--her face clouding over again for a moment--”I so dread arriving in England an utter stranger, and having to search, quite una.s.sisted, for grandpapa; and it would be _so_ dreadful if he were to turn me away from his doors. And I should feel, oh! miserably friendless and lonely if I had really to go about from place to place seeking for a situation, or trying to get pupils. But if you will let me stay here and go home with you, I shall not feel it so much, for I am sure you will help me in my search for my friends; and it is so delightful,”--brightening up again--”to be dancing over this bright, sparkling sea day after day, in this dear little yacht, and to see the kind faces of that darling old original Bob and--and--and--the kitten.”
”And the fowls,” I suggested demurely. ”But, in electing to remain on board the _Water Lily_, you must bear in mind, my dear Miss Brand, that it is not always with us as it is at present. Just now we are fortunate in the enjoyment of a fair wind and smooth sea, but we have been exposed to many dangers since we left England, and it is only reasonable to suppose we shall have to encounter many more before we return; and if you went home in a larger vessel, if you did not escape them altogether, they would probably bring less discomfort in their train than they will here.”
”What would you advise me to do?” she asked, looking ruefully up into my face.
”Well,” I replied, ”since you ask me, my advice is this. If we fall in with a comfortable s.h.i.+p, bound to England, or to any port whence you can trans-s.h.i.+p for England, go in her; if the s.h.i.+p is _not_ comfortable, and it comes to a choice of inconveniences, you can be guided by your own judgment, but do not leave us until you are sure of gaining some advantage by the change.”
So it was settled. That same afternoon, as I was lying down on the lockers in our little cabin aft, I overheard the following conversation on deck, between Bob and Ella.
”Bob,” said Ella (she soon dropped the Mr in his case, but it was still ”Mr Collingwood” to me)--”Bob, are we likely to meet any s.h.i.+ps very soon, do you think?”
”s.h.i.+ps!” echoed Bob, in consternation; ”no, missie, I hopes not. You surely ain't tired of the little _Lily_ yet, are ye?”
”No, indeed,” replied Ella; ”and I hope you are not tired of _me_. Tell me, Bob, am I very much trouble here, or very much in the way?”
”_Trouble! in the way_!!” repeated Bob; ”Well, I'm--”--then a strong inspiration between the teeth, as though to draw back the forcible expression quivering on his lips--”but there, it's because you don't know what you're sayin' of, that you talks that a-way. What put that notion into your pretty little head?”
”Harry--Mr Collingwood, I mean--seems anxious that I should go home in some other vessel,” Ella replied, dolefully.
”Well, now, that's news, that is,” answered Bob. ”Since when has he taken that idee into his head?”
”We were talking about it this morning,” said Ella; ”and he said it would be more dangerous for me to go home in the _Water Lily_ than in a large s.h.i.+p. _Is_ the _Water Lily_ dangerous, Bob?”
”Dangerous!” exclaimed Bob, in a tone of angry scorn. ”Was she dangerous in that blow off the Horn, when a big s.h.i.+p capsized and went down with all hands, close alongside of us? Was she dangerous when we had that bit of a brush with the pirates? If she hadn't been the little beauty that she is, she'd ha' gone down in the gale and a'terwards ha'
been made a prize of by the cut-throats.” (Bob, in his angry vindication of the cutter's character, was wholly oblivious of the ”bull” he had perpetrated, and Ella seemed too much interested to notice it.) ”Dangerous! why, what's the boy thinking about, to take away the little barkie's character that a-way?”
”I wish, Bob, you would not keep calling Ha--, Mr Collingwood, a _boy_; he is quite as much a man as you are, though of course not so old. I don't like--I don't think it sounds respectful,” exclaimed Ella rather petulantly.
”Not call him a boy?” echoed Bob; ”why, what _should_ I call him then, missie? In course, now you comes to mention it, I knows as he _is_ a man, and an uncommon fine speciment too; but, Lord, when I knowed him fust he was quite a dapper young sprig; and it comes nat'ral-like to speak of him as a boy. Hows'ever,” continued he apologetically, ”in course, since you don't like it, I won't call him a boy no more. What _shall_ I call him, so please your ladys.h.i.+p?”
”Now you are laughing at me, you horrid old creature,” said Ella, with a little stamp of pa.s.sion upon the deck; ”and I never said I did not like it; I merely said that it did not sound respectful. Why do you not call him captain?”
”Why not, indeed?” answered Bob. ”He's got as good a right to be called 'skipper' as e'er a man as ever walked a deck; and dash my old wig if I ain't a good mind to do it, too; my eyes! how he would stare. 'Twould be as good as a pantomime to see him;” and the worthy old fellow chuckled gleefully as his fancy conjured up the look of surprise which he knew such a t.i.tle on his lips would evoke from me.
”I declare,” exclaimed Ella, in a tone of great vexation, ”you are the most provoking-- But there, never mind, Bob dear, I do not mean it; you are very kind to me, and must not take any notice of my foolish speeches. And so you really think the _Water Lily_ is _not_ dangerous?
Why then should Mr Collingwood wish me to leave her? He told me this morning that he should be sorry if I did so, and yet he seems unwilling to let me stay.”
”Don't you believe it, little one,” I heard Bob answer. ”He don't want ye to go; it's some kind of conscientious scruple as he's got into his head that makes him talk that a-way. Between you and me,”--here his voice sank to a kind of confidential growl, but I distinctly heard every word, nevertheless--”it's my idee that he's got some sort of a notion as we may yet fall in with that infarnal _Albatross_ ag'in; but, if we do, we've got chances of getting away from the chap that large s.h.i.+ps haven't; and for my part, if I must be in their blackguard neighbourhood, I'd a deal rather be in the _Lily_ than in a large s.h.i.+p.