CHAPTER XXXV
THE quay at the Point was crowded with people to see the sailing of the Tunis. The English Government had chartered the vessel specially to take Sir Evelyn Carson, his men, stores, horses, guns, mining and agricultural machinery, and all the other quantities of things needed in the great business of opening up and civilising the latest possession of the Empire—to Borapota.
The sailing of the ship was, of course, an event of great public interest, but Sir Evelyn had, at the last moment, provided a further and electrifying sensation by being quietly married that morning to the distinguished African authoress, Eve Destiny; and his wife was accompanying him to Borapota on the Tunis.
Durban considered itself badly treated in not having been invited en masse to witness the ceremony; also, in being cheated of introspective discussion of the match, by having no faintest prenotion of it. But it was not to be done out of at least a parting glimpse of the principals in this unexpected dénouement. And so it happened that the quay was crowded, for the fashionable world had come down like the Assyrians, and everyone with the slimmest claim to the acquaintance of Carson or his wife made occasion to visit the Tunis before the hour of sailing. The rest of the world was obliged to be content with lining the docks and blackening the Breakwater.
Just after twelve, with the tide at full, preliminary sirens and scrunching of chains began to be heard, and word was given for people to leave the Tunis. That was a sign for everyone to come on deck, and the curious watchers ashore got a chance at last of seeing the special object of their curiosity. She appeared in the companionway door, smiling, with her hand through the arm of her great friend, Mrs. Portal; behind were a little group of men with Eve Carson towering in their midst.
Lady Carson was still wearing the gown she had been married in, and she looked vividly beautiful. Shimmering leaf-green draperies swept the decks, under a long coat of pale-grey velvet, and her poem face was shadowed by a plumed, grey hat. Her husband thought that she looked like the incarnation of Ireland—and than the beauty of that imagination could no further go.
She and Clem Portal, alone together for the first time in all that busy, eventful day, walked a little apart to make their farewells, and the eyes of the men followed them, resting naturally on the vivid glowing woman in the shimmering green-and-grey. Her husband's were the only eyes that did not follow her. He had given her one deep, long glance at the altar; and since then had not looked her way. His tanned face wore the impassive, almost cataleptic expression that men assume when they wish to conceal deep emotion from the eyes of the world. But he walked as one whom the gods have chosen to honour. Bramham strongly suspected him of suffering from what is known among men as—a swagger in the blood!
"I expect he feels tall enough to pull the sky down to-day," was the loyal fellow's thought, and he smiled affectionately and put an arm on Karri's shoulder.
Clem and Poppy walked along the deck together. They did not say much. Only, under cover of a big, grey velvet sleeve, and a stole of delicate lace Clem wore, their hands were tightly clasped together. The Portals would be gone from Africa before Eve Carson's five years' work in Borapota was over; and where, or when, the two women would meet again was a matter that lay upon the knees of the gods. Neither wished to let one word of regret mar the gladness of the day; but each knew how deeply the other felt the parting.