"Quite right, Miss; change at Preston, that's all," replied the man as he slammed the door.
The porters were thrusting some boxes into the luggage van, and a few latecomers made a last dash for carriages; then the green flag waved, the whistle sounded, and the train started with a jerk. Gipsy, hot, excited, and agitated, drew a long, long breath of relief. She was actually off! They were speeding fast out of the station, and she was leaving Greyfield and Briarcroft, and all the painful experiences of the last few months, entirely behind her. She could hardly believe her good luck in thus slipping away unobserved. True, she had only a half-crown and two pennies left after paying her fare, but she supposed that would be enough to last her until she could go on board a vessel. Surely chance had favoured her in enabling her to reach the station in the nick of time to catch the train, and no doubt she would be equally fortunate when she reached Liverpool. Her fellow passengers were uninteresting, and she had no desire to talk to anyone and confide her affairs, so she amused herself with her own thoughts and plans for the future. At Preston she changed, and bought a bun at the refreshment rooms; her dinner had been almost untasted, and she was growing hungry now. It seemed funny to have absolutely no luggage, though in one respect it was a great convenience not to be obliged to haul about a heavy handbag, or to tip a porter out of her extremely small capital.
"I feel almost as if I'd been shipwrecked again—in a borrowed dress and hat, and nothing else to call my own!" she thought with a smile.
It was half-past six before the train arrived at the big Liverpool terminus—rather late in the day to begin all the numerous enquiries which Gipsy was determined to make; but, nothing daunted, she set out at once for Waterloo, to try to find the residence of her old friend Captain Smith. She was directed by a policeman to take an overhead electric car, and travelled several miles above what seemed a wilderness of streets before she reached the suburb in question. Not knowing where to make a beginning, she decided to go first to a post office, thinking that there she might be able to gain the information she wanted. She had somehow imagined Waterloo to be quite a little place, where by diligent enquiry it would be fairly easy to trace such an important person as a sea captain who had been wrecked in the Bay of Biscay; greatly to her dismay, however, she found herself in the midst of what seemed a large city in itself—a veritable maze of long streets and small houses, stretching away into the distance with an endless vista of chimneypots. In a distinctly sober frame of mind she entered the post office and proffered her question.
"Smith? I couldn't tell you, I'm sure; there are so many Smiths," said the girl at the counter, with a superior smile. "One of them may be a sea captain, for anything I know. You'd better look in the Directory."
Gipsy seized upon the book with a sense of relief, and carried it off to a less busy part of the office. She turned up Waterloo, found the list of residents, and went through them in alphabetical order till she reached the letter S. She was appalled to see the number of Smiths who resided at Waterloo. To some of the names the Directory had appended an occupation, but with many it gave no details. Taking one of the telegraph forms she wrote down the addresses of about a dozen Smiths who, she considered, might be likely; then, returning the Directory to the girl at the counter, she started off on her arduous quest.
"I shall go to 'Ocean Villa' first," she thought. "It has a particularly nautical sound. I shouldn't think anybody but a sea captain could possibly live there. 'The Anchorage' sounds hopeful too, though it ought to be the home of somebody who is retired. 'Sea View Cottage' is doubtful, but 'Teneriffe House' is likely. The Queen of the Waves used to touch sometimes at Teneriffe. Oh, dear! the trouble will be to hunt out where they all are."
Poor Gipsy had indeed undertaken a most difficult task. She was obliged to ask her way again and again, and when at length she arrived at "Ocean Villa" it was only to meet with the information that nobody of a seafaring description was known there. Much disappointed, she trudged away in an opposite direction to find "The Anchorage", and after walking half a mile or more in search of it, was again confronted with ill success. At "Sea View Cottage" and "Teneriffe House" she fared no better; the occupiers, albeit they belonged to the great family of Smiths, had no connection whatever with the sea: and though she went to several other addresses on her list, the answer was invariably the same.
Utterly tired out, weary and despondent, Gipsy retraced her steps in the direction of the post office. Having parted with her watch, she had no idea of the time, but catching sight of a clock in a public building, she was horrified to find it was nearly a quarter to nine. The days at that season of the year were long, and this particular evening had been more than usually light; moreover, she had been entirely preoccupied with her quest, so she had never given a thought to the rapidly passing hours. For the first time the question of where she must sleep presented itself to her.
"I must get back to Liverpool," she thought, "and apply at one of the shipping offices. The docks aren't very far away, so I can get engaged as stewardess and go on board some ship at once, I expect."