The Adventures of an Ugly Girl

by Mrs. George Corbett

In due course this fresh ordeal was over. The boatmen grasped the end of the ladder, which had wooden rungs, in order to steady it, and one by one we sampled its precarious footing, swaying from side to side with the motion of the boat, and sometimes being turned almost with our backs to the steamer before we reached the rail at the top. Here many hands were ready to seize ours, and to help us to descend the short ladder which led from the rail to the deck. It is contrary to all custom for a woman to be left to the last to come on board in this fashion, and Ivan, in spite of his assumed transposition into a member of the weaker sex, would fain have seen the supposed German merchant board the ship before him. This, however, would of a certainty have roused the suspicions of the boatmen.

So madame was left to give the boatmen their stipulated pay and to come on board unaided. The boatmen, knowing with what facility seafarers usually mount these hanging ladders, pushed their boat off without further delay, and paid no more attention to the individual whom they left dangling in mid-air. Being thus unceremoniously thrown upon her own resources, madame exerted herself to secure a more stable footing, and when at last she stood upon the deck, shaking with sudden nervousness, I firmly believed that nothing short of a miracle had saved her from falling into the water.

“Pray come down below at once,” said the voice of a man who had taken an active part in our reception, and who proved to be the captain. “I began to be afraid that you would not save the tide. It will be high water in an hour, and there is nothing to hinder us from weighing and starting at once. We must pass out when the gates open. You will have to excuse the quarters to which I am compelled to consign you until we are out of Russian jurisdiction. We may possibly be boarded again by government officials before we are clear of the docks, and you must all be alike invisible and inaudible. So be perfectly still until I come down to you again. You will find some other refugees in the ship. They will help to make you comfortable. Take care!”

While the captain was talking, he had been leading us through the ship’s saloon; thence through the steward’s pantry to what he called the lazarette, whence we emerged, through a cunningly concealed sliding door, into an apartment that was so narrow that two stout people could barely have passed each other in it, and so dark that the reader may reasonably excuse the momentary panic which overcame me, when, before we had quite comprehended that we were at last at the end of our journey, we were pushed further into the passage-like space. Then the captain hurriedly left us to our own devices, and the door closed with a peculiar click which advertised some patent spring action.

We were doubtful what step to take next, and were so imbued with a sense of the deadly danger that would attend any noise on our part, that for a few moments we dared neither move nor speak. It was a great relief when, in a few minutes, the captain returned with a scrap of candle—warranted to go out in five minutes.

“Daren’t allow more. Might be seen,” he whispered, and then clicked the door after him.

We eagerly availed ourselves of the dim light which had been put into Trischl’s hand to glance around our temporary prison, which eventually proved to have been contrived by means of double bulkheads, which traversed the ship from side to side, but were only two feet apart from each other. The reason for this economy of space will be obvious when it is remembered that the object of the shipbuilders had been the provision of a secret chamber of which the existence was not to be even suspected by those not in the secret.

The long, narrow passage thus obtained was furnished with rugs and cushions, and such other means of comfort as the exigencies of space and practicability allowed.

But we did not dwell long upon the view of our place of refuge, for we speedily caught sight of that which filled us with the liveliest joy.

We had been enjoined to keep silent. Surely it would have been a superhuman task to refrain from a few exclamations of thankfulness at the surprise in store for us. For here were the Prince and Princess Michaelow, madame’s daughter Feo, and a fourth person whom we soon knew to be none other than Victor Karniak, my mistress’s newly-wedded husband.