CHAPTER XIX
"More than once that night," resumed Captain Collins, "I woke up with a start, at thought of our late adventures in the river Nouries—fancying I was still waiting for the turn of tide to bring down the boats or the schooner, and had gone to sleep, when that horrible sound through the cabin skylight seemed full in my ears again. However, the weltering wash of the water under the ship's timbers below one's head was proof enough we were well to sea; and, being dog-tired, I turned over each time with a new gusto—not to speak of the happy sort of feeling that ran all through me, I scarce knew why; though no doubt one might have dreamt plenty of delightful dreams without remembering them, more especially after such a perfect seventh heaven as I had found myself in for a moment or two, when Violet Hyde's hand first touched mine, and when I carried her in after she had actually saved my life.
"The broad daylight through our quarter-gallery window roused me at last altogether; and on starting up I saw Tom Westwood, half-dressed, shaving himself by an inch or two of broken looking-glass in regular nautical style—that's to say, watching for the rise of the ship—as she had the wind evidently on her opposite beam, and there appeared to be pretty much of a long swell afloat, with a breeze brisk enough to make her heel to it; while the clear horizon, seen shining through the port to north-westward, over the dark-blue heave of water, showed it was far on in the morning. 'Well, Ned,' said Westwood, turning round, 'you seemed to be enjoying it, in spite of the warm work you must have had last night on board here. Why, I thought you had been with us in the boats, after all, till I found, by the good joke the cadets made of it, that that puppy of a mate had left you still locked up, on account of some fancy he had got into his head of your being in partnership with the schooner! For heaven's sake, though, my dear fellow, wash your face and shave—you look fearfully suspicious just now!'
"'No wonder!' said I: and I gave him an account of the matter, leaving out most of what regarded the young lady; Westwood telling me, in his turn, so much about their boat expedition as I didn't know before from the planter. Everything went to certify what I believed all along, till this sudden affair in the river. The schooner's people had plainly some cue in keeping hold of our passengers, but hadn't expected to see us so soon again, or perhaps at all—as was shown by their hailing the boats at once in a pretended friendly way, whenever they came in sight up the creek; while Ford and the rest shouted with delight, off her bulwarks, at sound of the mate's voice.
"'I tell you what, Collins,' continued Westwood, 'this may be all very well for you, who are continually getting into scrapes and out of them, and don't seem to care much whether you ship on board an Indiaman or a corn-brig—you can always find something to do—but to me the service is everything!' 'Well, well,' said I, hastily, 'I'm much mistaken if we don't find something to do in India, Tom—only wait, and that uncle of yours will make all right; for all we know, there may be news from Europe to meet us, and I must say I don't like the notion of being born too late for turning out an admiral. I'm sure, for my part, I wish old Nap well out of that stone cage of his!' 'No, no, Ned,' said Westwood, 'I ought to clear myself at home first; and sorry I am that I gave in to you by leaving England, when I should have faced the consequences, whatever they were. Running only made matters worse, Collins!' 'No doubt,' I said; 'and as it was my fault, why, deuce take me, Tom, if I don't manage to carry you out scot-free! Depend on it, Captain Duncombe's friends would have you strung up like a dog, with the interest he had and sharp as discipline is just now.' Westwood shuddered at the thought. 'I fear it would go hard with me, Ned,' said he, 'and I shan't deny that these few weeks have brought me back a taste for life. But, in spite of all, I'd deliver myself up to the first king's ship we speak, or go home in some Indiaman from the Cape—but for one thing, Collins!' 'Ah!' said I, 'what's that?' Westwood gave me a curious half-look, and said, 'One person I mean, Ned—and I shouldn't like her to hear of me being——' 'Yes, yes,' said I, stiffly, 'I know.' 'It must have been by guess, then!' answered he. 'Often as we've talked of her during the voyage, I thought you didn't know we had met frequently in London before you came home, and—and—the fact is, I wasn't sure you would like me to——' 'Westwood,' said I, quickly, 'Tom Westwood—what I have to ask is—do you love her?' 'If ever a man loved a woman, Ned,' was his answer, 'I do her; but if you——' 'Have you any chance, then?' I broke out. 'Ay, true—true enough, you have the best of chances—your way is as clear as could be, Westwood, if you knew it! Only I must know if she is willing—does she——' 'I got leave to write to her in London,' answered Westwood, 'and I did so pretty often, you may be sure; but I only had one short little note in answer to the last, I think it was—which I had in my breast that morning on Southsea beach, when I expected the bullet would come through it!'
"Here Westwood stooped down to his trunk, and took out a rose-coloured note wrapped in a bit of paper; I standing the while fixed to the deck, not able to speak, till he was handing it to me. 'No, no!' said I, turning from him angrily, and like to choke; 'that's too much, Mr Westwood—pray keep your own love-letters for your own reading!' 'There's nothing particular in it, Ned,' answered he, flushing a little, 'only there's a few words in it I'd like you to see—don't look at it just now, but tell me afterwards what you think. You ought to see it, as the matter seems to depend on you, Ned; and if you object, you may be sure, so far as I'm concerned, 'tis all over!'
"Somehow or other, the look of the little folded piece of paper, with the touch and the scent of it, as Westwood slipped it into my hand, made it stick to me. I caught one glance of the address on the back, written as if fairy fingers had done it, and I suppose I slipped it into my coat as I went out of the berth, meaning to go aloft in the foretop and sicken over the thought at my leisure, of Violet Hyde's having ever favoured another man so far, and that man Tom Westwood. The strangeness of the whole affair, as I took it, never once struck me; all that I minded was the wretched feeling I had in me, as I wished I could put the Atlantic betwixt me and them all; in fact, a hundred things before we sailed, and during the passage, seemed all at once to agree with what I'd just heard; and I'd have given thousands that moment it had been someone else than Westwood, just that I might wait the voyage out coolly, for the satisfaction of meeting him at twelve paces the first morning ashore.
"On the larboard side of the berth-gangway, opposite our door, I saw the old planter's standing half open, and Mr Rollock himself with his shirt and trousers on, taking in his boots. 'Hallo, Collins, my boy,' he sang out, eagerly, 'come here a moment, I've got something to show you!—Look,' said he, standing on tiptoe to see better through the half-port, 'there's something new been put in my picture-frame here overnight, I think—ha! ha!'
"The first thing that caught my eye, accordingly, was the gleam of a sail rising from over the swell to windward, far away off our larboard quarter, seemingly rolling before the south-easter; while the Indiaman hove her big side steadily out of water, with her head across the other's course, and gave us a sight of the strange sail swinging to the fair wind, every time we rose on the surge. 'What is it, eh?' said the planter, turning to me, 'back or face, Collins? for, bless me, if I can distinguish tub from bucket, with all this bobbing about—great deal of capital indigo wasted hereabouts, my dear fellow!' 'Why, you may make out the two breasts of her royals,' said I—'a brig, I think, sir.' 'Not that abominable schooner in her first shape again, I hope!' exclaimed he; 'perhaps bringing back the Yankee.' 'Too square-shouldered for that, Mr Rollock,' I said; 'in fact, she seems to be signalling us; yes, by Jove! there's the long pennant at her fore-royal mast-head—she's a brig of war. They're surely asleep on deck, and we shall have a shot directly, if they don't look sharp!' 'You'd better say nothing about the Yankee's absence, Collins,' put in the planter, 'till we're fairly away. For my part, I really have no notion of waiting for anyone—particularly a fellow who must have some go-ahead scheme in his noddle, which we Indians don't want. Quietly speaking, my dear fellow, I shall be glad if we're rid of him!'