Our steamer, the Asphodel, corresponded with the passage money in every particular. She looked, and was, cheap, and I think I may add, nasty. The smell of oil from the engine-room almost overpowered the salt sea air, and the saloon reeked of new mahogany and stale sherry. The cabins were small and stuffy. There were but two bathrooms for the first-class passengers, who luckily were few and far between: chiefly individuals like the Hayes-Billingtons who had squandered most of their money when on furlough; one or two railway officials, several planters, and half a dozen missionaries; nothing approaching the smart crowd that one heard or read of as passengers to the East. For one thing, we were outward bound at the wrong time of year; and for another, we had booked by an unfashionable line. There were no dances, no games; the piano was a derelict; but the weather and the novelty consoled me for all deficiencies.
As we coasted down by Spain and put in at Gibraltar and Malta, and endured the usual coaling agony at Port Said, it seemed to me that I was seeing the world at last! Mrs. Hayes-Billington and I shared the same cabin. Here I also shared some of the secrets of her toilet; to do her justice she had no false shame, and allowed me to know that certain portions of her hair and complexion were artificial; nevertheless, much of her beauty was bona fide. Living at such close quarters I realised that she was considerably older than I had supposed, and, in spite of some wonderful grease that she applied at night, there were wrinkles round her eyes and lines upon her forehead.
I always rose first, in order to clear out of the cabin and give my companion lots of elbow room for dressing. The operation was a lengthy one, and she rarely appeared on deck before twelve o’clock, but, on the other hand, she seldom descended to her berth till after midnight.
Among our fellow passengers she had discovered an old acquaintance in a good-looking officer of the frontier force. His name was Colonel Armadale; he sat next her at meal times, his chair was with ours on deck. They promenaded for hours at a time, and occasionally disappeared into a particular lair of their own somewhere about the bows of the ship. Mrs. Hayes-Billington carefully explained to me that Colonel Armadale’s sister was her very oldest friend, which fact naturally drew them a good deal together, and this was not their sole tie. They had been in the same station in the Punjaub, and had many acquaintances and topics in common. Her friend was always polite and attentive to me, carried my rug, moved my chair, and occasionally included me in the conversation. Once or twice I caught his eyes gazing at me with a curious, interrogative expression. What did it mean?
As he had, to a great extent, appropriated the society of my chaperon, I was more or less thrown upon my own resources. At first the other womenkind seemed to hold aloof from me, but before long I found myself received into the bosom of the missionary circle. There was a kindly white-bearded gentleman and his wife who were going to Assam, and one tall, distinguished woman travelling alone, en route to join her husband in Upper Burmah. Her name was Mrs. Ashe, and she and I became comrades, paced the deck together, exchanged books and new stitches in lace work. Her spirits were depressed, as she had just left two small children at home, but presently she cheered up and gave me a great deal of useful information respecting the country to which I was bound. Undoubtedly Mrs. Ashe belonged to my own class, though I may honestly say it was not for this reason that I made friends with her. She informed me that her father had been the general commanding a division in Northern India. There she had met a zealous young Oxford parson, cast in her lot with him, and departed to work in the mission field, to the stupefaction and horror of her family. “It has turned out all right,” she added. “Julian and I are very happy. Our only trouble is in having to be separated from the kiddies.”
For my own part I imparted abundant information about myself, and told her that I had no parents, no real home, and was going to India in order to be within reach of my brother, also because the family doctor advised that I should spend the winters in a warm climate.
“And Mrs. Hayes-Billington is taking charge of you on the voyage?”
“By no means,” I replied, “she is in charge of me altogether. I am to live with them.”
For quite an appreciable time Mrs. Ashe was speechless. At last she said:
“But how on earth did your people come across her?”