Like Another Helen

by Sydney C. Grier

But in general, as I have said, there’s nothing to do but talk, and I can’t pretend that the style of the conversation is altogether as ceremonious as the venerable Mrs Eustacia would desire. For instead of the ladies all sitting in a circle, with the gentlemen standing behind their chairs, and each endeavouring to contribute some piece of wit or information for the advantage of all, the passengers seem naturally to divide themselves into small groups, often, I must confess, containing as few as two persons. At least, this is my experience. Nay, I’ll go so far as to say (for I see my Amelia’s eyes asking the question), that I am not much in the habit of changing my companion on these occasions. ’Tis very seldom that my cavalier is not Mr Fraser, and this not only because I find his discourse always modest and agreeable, but because I am in continual alarm lest he should involve himself in some quarrel when he is not with me. You may have observed that this gentleman is of a somewhat fiery temper, and since the officers of the ship continue to treat him in the same offensive manner as I have already described to you, I am kept in a perpetual fear. Not that he is altogether without self-command, as I remarked one day when I looked to him to take the part of one of the crew who was knocked down and kicked by the second mate. These unfortunate seamen, who are kidnapped or inveigled by the Hon. Co. on board of their ships, and there forced to serve without hope of release, are handled with the most shocking barbarity by those in authority, and sometimes injured in a horrible manner. Knowing that Mr Fraser, as he had told me, had learned from his former commander, Mr Watson, to behave with justice and humanity to those serving under him,[04] I was not surprised to see him step forward with his hand raised, as though about to lay the wretch on the deck by the side of his victim. But dropping his hand and returning to my side, he said, in answer to my mute expostulation, “Pray, madam, pardon my disobliging you, but I have learnt by this time that my interference on behalf of these poor wretches only serves to ensure them a worse treatment, if not the being placed in irons forthwith.”

Pleased with this care of his for the unfortunate seamen, I ceased to expect Mr Fraser to interpose himself on such occasions, and you may imagine that I take none the less pleasure in conversing with him. He has told me that he is the third son of a Scots gentleman of quality, who was granted the confiscated estate of a cousin that was a rebel in consideration of his services to the Government in the affair of the ’15, services which he repeated in the rebellion nine years ago, but for which, as I understand, no recompense has as yet been awarded him. You’ll be surprised to hear that a son of the cousin who was thus dispossessed is serving in the Company’s army at Bengall, and that Mr Fraser declares it his purpose to seek him out if he can obtain leave to visit Calcutta. This seems to me conduct scarce to be expected from a delicate mind, but Mr Fraser laughed when I hinted as much.

“Any port in a storm,” says he; “and after all, madam, blood is thicker than water.”

Hon. Co.’s Ship Orford, Madrass Road, Aug. ye 20th.

I must be content to permit my Amelia to scold me as she will, for not only have I allowed a long time to pass without adding to my bulky pacquet, but I confess freely that I had not sat down to write to-day had I been able to find anything else to do. In fine, my dear, I have the vapours very badly, and know not whether it be more disagreeable to look forward to arriving at Bengall or to look back upon our voyage. But how? why? what? you’ll cry; I can see you trembling with eagerness to unfold this puzzle. Must I acknowledge that I have felt tempted to allow my letter to end with that part I writ at the Cape, and to shroud in oblivion all that has happened since? But I picture my Amelia reading the long sheets through with a face full of suspicion. “What’s this?” she cries; “Mr Fraser here, Mr Fraser there, and again Mr Fraser, and all at once he disappears as though he had never been!” I could not resolve to sacrifice the pages wrote at so much trouble, and telling, moreover, of such quiet happiness as I can’t look to see again; but be sure, my dearest friend, that nothing but the memory of the dreadful compact by which I bound myself to my Amelia, promising never to conceal from her any point soever, even the most intricate or delicate, of any transaction in which I should chance to engage, would lead me to disclose even to you the history of the past two months. I see you, when you read this, shake your head wisely, and cry, “Ah, I knew it—the old story, a devoted lover, a dutiful daughter, a hated elderly suitor in the background. Sure there’s nothing new nor strange here!” By no means, Amelia, but wait until you hear what I have to say.

After leaving the Cape of Good Hope, everything continued in the same agreeable course as before until we were past the island of St Johanne.[05] We had taken in water early in the day, and weighed anchor in good time, in order to avoid the dangerous reefs guarding the harbour, and in the evening we were sailing on an agreeable breeze which was sufficient to fill the sails, without making the ship heel over. (Pardon these nautical terms, my dear. They will come to my pen, even now.) Mr Fraser and I were sitting near the binnacle (which is an odd sort of stand on which the mariner’s compass is placed), and the Lieutenant was reckoning out very seriously how much time must elapse before he might decently ask for leave to visit his cousin at Calcutta, supposing that he found his ship in harbour when we arrived at Madrass, and was permitted to rejoin her. Having satisfied (or perhaps I should rather say dissatisfied) himself on this head, he asked whether he might have the honour of paying his respects to me at my papa’s house. To this I could say nothing but that it wasn’t for me to dictate to Mr Freyne what persons he should repulse from his doors; but Mr Fraser, seeming not to be content with this, seized my hand suddenly, and was vastly urgent with me to say whether it would cause me any pleasure should he come. The more warmly he demanded an answer, the more rigidly I refused one (for you know one can’t always yield to these fellows, my dear; their conceit is already so enormous), and he was going on to denounce me as a cruel coquette that lived but to torment him, when Miss Hamlin, who had been sitting upon the steps of the poop, drew near with Mr Ranger. I won’t deny that I considered her coming unnecessary, but I had no heart to think of that when once she began to speak.

“You was assisting Mr Fraser to reckon up the time that must pass before he visits Bengall, miss, was you not?” said she. “Now I would prophesy that the gentleman will arrive in Calcutta just in time for the wedding-day of the lovely and accomplished daughter of Henry Freyne, Esq.”

I would have given worlds not to blush, my Amelia; but the words were accompanied with so provoking and malicious a glance that I felt the traitorous red rise all over my face and neck. Miss Hamlin, marking it, smiled, and addressed herself to Mr Fraser.

“I fear, sir,” she said, “that Miss Freyne han’t exhibited to you the full merit of her conduct in undertaking this voyage to the Indies. You must know that she and I are not bent upon seeking pleasure for ourselves, but on laying out what my aunt Hamlin calls our fortunes to the best advantage. Our parents (or guardians) intend—and we are fully determined to second their efforts—to marry us to a couple of frightful old Nabobs, each with a face as yellow as his guineas, and a liver as large as his money-bags. Now pray, miss,” turning suddenly to me, “shriek out and fall into a fit at the indelicacy of my language; pray do!”

I was ready enough to faint, though not for that reason; but meeting her eye, I forced a smile, and she went on:—