“Is that her name?” asked Miss Dove.
“Yes, miss, but please to have your private talk at once, so that I can see you before the bad weather comes on. I’m told the glass is falling very fast, and that they are preparing for a rough night of it.”
It did not take Miss Chain very long to reveal the discovery she had made to Edith Dove, who was much shocked to find that Miss Chain’s mother was imprisoned on board in a separate cabin. She was much affected when her companion offered to return to her the bag of gold and notes, part of the cheque her kindness of heart had prompted her to send to Mrs Chain.
“You said, dear, it would be turned to a good and useful account. How wonderful are the ways of Providence. This proof of it inspires me with hope, but you must be cashier. Now tell me, Miss Chain, don’t you think it would be good policy to give the stewardess, say, five pounds, i.e., unless you see some other way of turning this godsend to better account, as your tact and judgment are superior to mine. And do, if we can manage it, let me see your mother, for we may meet for the first and last time, if this bloodthirsty monster is bent on our destruction.”
“We must work together to prevent such an awful catastrophe as you and my poor mother picture, Miss Dove. But, dear me, how rough it is getting.”
The stewardess, on reappearing, said she was not sorry that a storm was brewing, as Mr Filcher, the party who had engaged the yacht, would remain probably on deck longer than he might have done if it had been calm, as he expected it to be.
“But you know him, ladies, I have no doubt. Please to lie down, for I hear him on the companion; he is coming down to have a drink, and perhaps to see where you are. If he thinks you are sleeping, it will be better for all of us.”
After Falcon, with an unsteady gait, had partaken of a glass of brandy and water, he spoke in a subdued voice to the steward, and said that it was not fit weather for ladies to be on deck, and he was not over well pleased with the skipper’s seamanship, so that he would like to be near him, as it looked very stormy outside.
“Very well, sir. Please to mind our companion steps, Mr Filcher, as they are awfully steep. You will excuse me calling your attention to it, as I knew a man on board the Neptune, a full-rigged ship in which I once sailed, who, I was given to understand, was pitched down the companion in a gale of wind and broke his neck.”
“There was an end of him, then,” cried Falcon, with a sneer. “He can tell no tales. However, you can finish about him next call, for I don’t feel very well in this atmosphere.”