Tales of terror
his feet at his mere bidding. It was a dreadful feeling, and her health
naturally suffered. Her mother and lover were both concerned about her,
but she endeavoured to remove any anxiety they might have had by saying
that her indisposition was of a very trivial character. One evening
she had been sitting on the poop with Fenton. The weather was fine,
but a strong breeze was blowing, and the vessel was tearing through
the water. The daylight had almost faded out, and it was impossible to
distinguish people who were standing or sitting only a few yards away.
Fenton left her for a few minutes to go down to his cabin for some
cigars, and scarcely had he disappeared when she was startled by the
sudden appearance of Cornell. It seemed almost as though he had risen
up out of the deck. She was seated on a camp stool, and he bent his
head low until she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. He whispered
to her in a voice that could not possibly have been heard by anyone
else, however near they might have been; but she heard every word,
every syllable, as it was poured into her ear, and it seemed to burn
into her brain.
‘Lily, you are cruel,’ he said; ‘I love you madly, and yet you avoid
me. You must give me some encouragement, or I will drown myself; and
if you breathe a word of what I have said to you to any living soul, I
tell you in God’s name that I will throw myself overboard, and my death
will lie at your door. Remember what I say. I am a determined man, and
nothing on earth will stop me carrying out my will.’
Once again his fingers touched her hand; then in a moment he was
gone as suddenly as he had appeared. He seemed to fade away into the
darkness like a spectre, but almost immediately afterwards she heard
him bawling some orders in stentorian tones to the watch.
When Fenton came back she was trembling and faint, and though she
struggled hard to conceal from him that she was agitated, he could not
fail to observe it, and in a tone of alarm asked the cause.
‘Oh, nothing, dear--nothing,’ she answered; ‘at least, nothing of any
consequence. A slight feeling of faintness has come over me; but really
it is not worth bothering about.’
Oh, how she longed to tell him all; but the words of the strange man
who was exercising such a powerful influence over her were still
ringing in her ears, and she was silent.
Fenton did not make any further remark then on the subject, but he
felt uneasy. He was convinced that there was some mystery, but what it
was he could not for the life of him determine. The thought did flash
through his brain that she was deceiving him, but instantly he put it
away as unworthy of him. It seemed so preposterous to associate deceit
with the Red Lily, who was as pure as the beautiful flower after which
she was called.
When he escorted her down to the cabin a little later, he said:
‘Darling, I am uneasy about you. Something is wrong, I am sure, but
your gentle heart prompts you to keep it from me for fear of giving
me pain. Do be good to yourself for my sake. Why don’t you take your
mother into your confidence, and tell her if you have any trouble,
since you do not apparently care to confide it to me.’
‘Do not be uneasy,’ she answered. ‘Believe me, oh, do believe me, when
I say that my indisposition is of a very trifling character. I have
nothing to tell my mother, and you know perfectly well, Dick, you have
my full confidence.’
She felt a little guilty as she said this, for she knew that she
ought to have told him at once of Cornell’s conduct. But, firstly,
the strange fascination he exercised over her kept her silent; and,
secondly, she was really afraid of causing a scene between the two
men. Besides, she comforted herself with the thought that the voyage
would soon be over, and once clear of the ship it would be good-bye to
Cornell for ever. She regarded him as a vain, presumptuous fellow, who
imagined that every girl he looked at must be in love with him.
As soon as her lover had left her, and she had been to wish her mother
good-night, the Red Lily once again gave unrestrained vent to her
feelings, and wept passionately. She could not help it. She felt almost
as if she would die if she did not weep, and weep she did bitterly
until she fretted herself to sleep.
The following morning she was weak and pale, and did not put in
an appearance at breakfast. The beautiful pink had faded from her
face, and she had the look of one who was jaded and unhappy. Mrs.
Hetherington visited her daughter, and naturally felt alarmed. There
was a doctor on board, and Mrs. Hetherington expressed a determination
to consult him; but Lily pleaded with such earnestness, and at last
expressed such a strong determination not to see him, that her mother
yielded, and Lily kept in her cabin all that day.
On the following day she was better. Cornell’s influence had passed
away, and she had to a considerable extent regained her spirits.
The weather was now very chilly, and unfortunately the wind was
unfavourable, so that the ship had to sail on long and short tacks. It
was worse than tantalising to those who had looked forward so eagerly
to spending Christmas with their friends in the dear old country. The
hope of doing that was now past, for the distance was too great to
cover in the time that intervened between them and the great Christian
Festival. Well wrapped in rugs, Lily was once more seated on deck in
company with Dick. She had been doing some fancy needlework, and he had
been sketching a large vessel that had been in company with them two or
three days. Presently he laid down his sketching block on the deck, and
looking up into the fair face of his companion, he said:
‘Lily, pet, do you remember the promise you made to me before we left
India?’
‘What was that, Dick?’ she asked.
‘That you would become my wife on Christmas Day.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said quickly, and with some slight agitation; ‘but we
shall not be home by that time.’
‘That is true; but it need not affect your promise.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ she answered.
‘You are surely aware, Lily, that a marriage on board of a ship is
perfectly legal. Even a captain has the power to marry people; but it
fortunately happens, as you know, that we have a Church of England
clergyman amongst us, and therefore I claim the fulfilment of your
promise.’
‘Oh, Dick, it cannot be.’
‘Cannot be!’ he echoed in some astonishment. ‘Were your words, then,
_only_ words after all?’
‘Ah, love, do not be harsh with me. I should so much prefer that our
wedding took place in the regular way on shore, and it is to be hoped
that we shall arrive in England by the New Year.’
‘I am far from being harsh with you, Lily,’ answered Dick, a little
sadly; ‘but you yourself expressed a wish to be married on the
Christmas morning, even saying that you were superstitious about it.
Although there is every prospect now that we shall be at sea on that
day, there is no reason at all why we should not be married on board;
and if you like we will go through the ceremony again when we reach
England. The mere circumstance of being married in or out of a church
cannot possibly affect our union, and I am sure you have too much
good sense to be influenced by the stupid idea which possesses some
small-brained people--that a marriage performed out of a church cannot
be sanctified.’
‘I have no such idea,’ she said. ‘I should be ashamed of myself if I
had.’
‘Very well, then, Lily, say that you will be my wife on Christmas
morning, even though we are at sea.’
‘How long does it want to Christmas, Dick?’
‘Three weeks exactly.’
‘Then I promise you that if mamma offers no objection I will gratify
your wish.’
‘I am perfectly satisfied that your mother will willingly let us have
our own way, so on Christmas Day we will become man and wife, if we are
both living.’
‘On Christmas Day we will become man and wife if we are both living,’
she repeated solemnly, but the words had scarcely left her lips when
she almost uttered a scream, for close beside her stood Cornell. He had
his sextant in his hand, and had come up the companion-way (near which
Dick and Lily were sitting) with the captain to take the sun.
‘Make eight bells,’ said the captain, ‘we shall get no sun to-day.’
‘Eight bells,’ roared out Cornell.
‘Come, dear, let us go down to luncheon,’ said Dick as he rose,
gathered up the wraps, and offered his arm to his _fiancée_.
She had to pass Cornell to reach the companion-way, and she saw his
hawk-like eyes fixed upon her, although he pretended to be examining
the figures on his sextant. Those eyes burned into her soul, as it
were, and the strange hysterical feeling came back again so that she
felt as if she must weep, but by a powerful effort she controlled
herself, and Dick did not notice how she was affected.
The question of the marriage being put to Mrs. Hetherington, that lady
said that she should offer no objection to the wishes of the young
people. Consequently it was soon understood that the monotony of the
voyage would be relieved by a wedding on Christmas morning. In which
case there would be a double occasion for rejoicing and festivities.
Christmas at sea is always a festive time, but this particular one on
board the ‘Sirocco’ promised to be unusually lively. The captain gave
orders to the steward that he was to reserve a good supply of his best
champagne for the occasion, and the cook was ordered to make plenty
of cakes and fancy things; while the butcher was instructed to kill
the fattest geese of the few that remained, and the last pig was to
be slaughtered in order to add to the feast. The lady and gentlemen
passengers rummaged amongst their boxes to try and fish out suitable
little presents to give to the young couple, and there was much fun and
laughter as all sorts of odd suggestions were made; while the ladies
further busied themselves in improvising suitable decorations for the
saloon. In fact, this coming marriage was looked upon as a blessing
almost, for the voyage had been so long and tedious, that the little
excitement caused by the prospective union of the Red Lily and Dick
Fenton was most welcome.
As the second mate seemed to purposely avoid Lily now, she recovered
her spirits; in fact, several days passed without her seeing him, and
she began to laugh at her stupidity in allowing him to have such an
influence over her. Dick could not fail to notice the change, and,
attributing it to the pleasure she anticipated at the near prospect of
their union, he was delighted also.
Christmas Day was now anxiously looked forward to by all the
passengers, and as it only wanted eight days to the time great
preparations were going on, and ladies busied themselves in stoning
raisins and performing other incidental necessaries in connection with
the concoction of those mysteries--Christmas puddings. The gentlemen
found occupation in dressing the saloon with flags, and decorations
ingeniously constructed by the fair sex out of the most likely and
unlikely things. No one who has not been on a long voyage in a
passenger ship can imagine with what avidity every little incident
calculated to relieve the monotony of life at sea--if it can truthfully
be said to be monotonous--is seized upon. Therefore, Christmas tide and
a marriage in the bargain were such important events, that the little
floating world which the ‘Sirocco’ represented was agitated to its very
centre, and the excitement rose to fever heat.
Life at sea, however, is influenced by laws which do not affect it
on land. Changes in the weather; changes from calm to rough weather
have a marked effect on a floating community, and a few hours often
produce the most extraordinary transformations. An oily sea may become