Volume Three—Chapter Fourteen.
Lady Eaton’s Son.
It was a long voyage, for in those days the idea of shortening a trip to the Antipodes had not been dreamed of, and the man who had suggested that the time would come when powerful steamers would run through the Mediterranean, down a canal, along the Red Sea, across the Indian Ocean, touch at Singapore, and after threading their way among the tropic Indian Islands, pass down the eastern side of the Australian continent within shelter of the Great Barrier Reef, would have been called a madman.
But long and tedious as it was made by calms, in what seemed to be a region of eternal summer, Christie Bayle prayed that the voyage might be prolonged.
And then, Julia—who had been to him as his own child, whose young life he had seen increase and develop till the bud was promising to be a lovely flower—seemed so happy. Everything was so new to the young girl, fresh from her life of retirement, and now thrust into a society where she was at once made queen. There was a smile and a pull at the forelock from every sailor, while every soldier of Captain Otway’s company was ready to salute as soon as she came on deck.
The bluff old captain of the Sea King took her at once under his protection, and settled her place at table; while his officers vied with each other in their attentions. As for Philip Eaton, he was more than satisfied with the behaviour of Mrs Captain Otway, and he did not believe her when, in a free-and-easy way, she clapped him on the shoulder and said:
“It is not on your account, Phil Eaton—handsome youth, who falleth in love with every pretty woman he sees—but because I like the little lady. However, my boy, your flirtation is nearly over.”
“Nearly over, Mrs Otway!” he cried warmly. “Flirtation? Don’t call it by that wretched name.”
“There, I told Jack so, and he laughed at me. It is serious, then?”
“Serious! I mean to be married this time.”
“Pooh! nonsense, Phil. Absurd!”
“Was it absurd for you to make a runaway match with John Otway!”
“No; but then we loved each other passionately.”
“Well, and do not we?”
“Hum! No, my dear boy. There, Phil, you see I am like a mother to you. You think you love the little thing desperately.”
“And I do so. It is no thinking. I never saw a woman who moved me as she does with her sweet, innocent ways.”
“Is it so bad as that?” said Mrs Otway, smiling.
“Bad! no, it’s good. I’m glad I’ve seen the woman at last of whom I can feel proud. She is so different from any girl I ever met before.”
“Don’t singe your wings, my handsome butterfly,” said Mrs Otway, laughing. “Why, my dear Phil, I don’t think the girl cares for you a bit.”
“But I am sure she does.”
“Has she owned to it?”
“No,” he said proudly. “I am in earnest now, and I reverence her so that I would not say a word until I have spoken to her mother and her friends.”
“Humph! yes: her friends,” said Mrs Otway. “What relatives are Sir Gordon Bourne and the Reverend Christie Bayle to the fair queen of my gallant soldier’s heart?”
“I don’t know,” he said impatiently.
“Why are they all going out to Port Jackson?”
“I don’t know. How should I?”
“Oh! they might have told you in conversation.”
“I did not trouble myself about such things. Hang it all! Mrs Otway, how could I be so petty?”
“Is it not natural that a man should be anxious to know who and what are the relatives of the lady he thinks of as his future wife?”
“Oh, some sordid fellows would think of such things. I’m not going to marry her relations.”
“In some sort a man must,” said Mrs Otway coolly. “Look here,” cried the young officer, “why do you talk to me like this?”
“Hullo! what’s the matter?” cried Captain Otway, who had come up unobserved; “quarrelling?”
“No,” said Mrs Otway, “I am only giving Phil Eaton a little of the common-sense he seems to have been losing lately. Why do I talk to you like this, my dear Phil? I’ll tell you. Because the day before we sailed Lady Eaton came to me and said, ‘You are a woman of experience, Mrs Otway; keep an eye upon my boy, and don’t let him get entangled in any way.’”
“My mother said that to you?”
“Indeed she did; and now that you are running your head into a very pretty silken skein, and tangling yourself up in the most tremendous manner, I think it is time for me to act.”
“Quite right, Phil,” said the Captain. “You wanted checking. The young lady is delicious, and all that is innocent and nice; but you are not content with a pleasant chat.”
“No,” said the Lieutenant firmly; “I mean to marry her.”
“Indeed!” said Otway dryly. “Who and what is she?”
“A lady of the greatest refinement and sweetness of character.”
“Granted; but who is her mother?”
“Mrs Hallam, a lady whom, in spite of her sadness of disposition and distant ways, it is a privilege to know.”
“Will you go on, Bel?” said Otway.
“No! Oh, Captain, you are talking grand sense! I’ll listen.”
“Well, then, here is another question. Who is Mr Hallam?”
“How should I know? Some merchant or official out at Port Jackson. They are going to join him. Julie—”
“Hullo!” cried Mrs Otway, “has it come to that?”
“Miss Hallam,” continued the young officer, flushing, “told me she had not seen her father for years.”
Captain Otway turned to his wife, and she exchanged glances with him in a meaning way.
Eaton looked sharply from one to the other, his eyes flashing, and his white teeth showing as he bit his lip.
“What do you two mean?” he cried angrily.
“Oh, nothing!” said Otway, shrugging his shoulders.
“I insist upon knowing!” cried Eaton. “You would not look like that without deep cause; and it is not fair to me. Look here, I can’t bear it! You are thinking something respecting these people; and it is not like my old friends. Hang it all, am I a boy?”
“Yes,” said Mrs Otway gently, “a foolish, hot-headed, impetuous boy. Now, my dear Phil, be reasonable. The young lady is sweet and gentle, and sings charmingly. She is a delicious little companion for the voyage, and at your wish Jack and I have been very friendly, not feeling ourselves called upon during a Voyage like this to inquire into people’s antecedents so long as they were pleasant.”
“But—”
“Hear me out.”
“Yes, hear her out, Phil; and don’t be a fool!” said Captain Otway.
“Mrs Hallam and Miss Hallam are both very nice, and we liked them, and I should like them to the end of the voyage if you were not beginning to make yourself very stupid.”
“Stupid! Oh, shame upon you, Mrs Otway!”
“You say so now, my dear boy; but what would you say if we, your old friends, let you run blindly into an entanglement with a young lady whose antecedents would horrify Lady Eaton, your mother?”
“I say shame again, Mrs Otway!” cried Eaton. “Why, everything contradicts your ideas. Would Mrs and Miss Hallam have for friends and companions Sir Gordon Bourne and a clergyman? I had heard of Sir Gordon as an eccentric yachting baronet years ago.”
“So had I,” said Captain Otway; “but they have only become acquainted since they were on board ship. Sir Gordon and the parson came on board at Plymouth.”
“Now I am going to show you how unjust you both are!” cried Eaton triumphantly. “Julie—I mean Miss Hallam—told me herself that she knew Sir Gordon Bourne when she was a little girl, and that Mr Bayle had acted as her private tutor ever since she could remember.”
“And what did she say Mr Hallam was?” “She did not mention his name, and I did not ask her. Hang it, madam, what do you think he is?”
“I am not going to say, my dear Philip, because I should be sorry to misjudge any one; but please remember why we are going out to Port Jackson.”
“Going out? Why, to join the regiment—from the dépôt.”
“And when we join our regiment our duty is to—”
“Guard the convicts! Good heavens!”
The young man sprang from the chair in which he had been lounging, and turned white as paint, then he flushed with anger, turned pale again, and glared about the vessel.
Just then Mrs Hallam came out of the cabin with Julia and mounted to the after deck, going slowly to the vessel’s side, as was her custom, to gaze away east and south, talking softly to her child the while.
“Oh, it is impossible!” said Eaton at last. “How dare you make such a charge!”
“My wife makes no charge, Phil,” said Captain Otway firmly. “She only tells you what we think. Perhaps we are wrong.”
“And now that you suspect this,” said Eaton sarcastically, “are you both going to hold aloof from these ladies?”
“Certainly not!” said Mrs Otway warmly. “I have always found them most pleasant companions during our voyage, and I am the last woman to visit the sins of one person on the rest of his family.”
“And yet you abuse me for doing as you do!” cried Eaton impetuously.
“There are different depths of shading in a picture, my dear Phil,” said Mrs Otway, laying her hand upon the young man’s arm. “Be friendly to these people, as Jack there and I are about to be, to the end, but don’t go and commit yourself to an engagement with a convict’s daughter.”
“Oh, this is too much!” cried Eaton fiercely.
“No, it is not, Phil,” said the Captain quietly. “I’m afraid my wife is right.”
As he was speaking, Mrs Otway, who had left them, crossed the deck, and stood talking to Mrs Hallam and Julia, who soon went away, and Eaton saw her walk to where Sir Gordon was smoking the cigar just brought to him, and then leave him to go timidly up to where Christie Bayle was leaning over the bulwarks, book in hand, and seeming to read.