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 L I E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVERS ITY 
 
 or ILLI NOI5 
 
 82 3 
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 DRIVEN TO BAY. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 FLORENCE MARRYAT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 'love's conflict,' 'my own child,' 
 'the master passion,' 'spiders of society,' 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 F. V. WHITE & CO., 
 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C, 
 
 1887. 
 
 \_All Rights reserved. ^
 
 V 
 
 EDINBURGH 
 
 COLSTON AND COMPANY 
 
 PRINTERS
 
 /. 4 75-J 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^" 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. Jack, the Sailor, i 
 
 II. Vernon, the Lover, 17 
 
 III. Iris Harland, 3^ 
 
 IV. Les Nouveaux Riches, . . . -55 
 V. Breakers Ahead, 72 
 
 VI. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, . . 85. 
 VII. Two Women's Hearts, . . . .98 
 
 VIII. The ^Pandora,' 115 
 
 IX. Mr Greenwood, 132 
 
 X. Good-bye to England, . . . • i53 
 
 XI. A Discovery, 175 
 
 XII. At Sea, 191 
 
 XIII. Courtship, 200 
 
 XIV. Remonstrance, 216
 
 "SELECT" NOVELS. 
 
 Crown 8z/<9, clothe 3^-. 6d. each. 
 AT ALL BOOKSELLERS AND BOOKSTALLS. 
 
 By FLORENCE MARRYAT. 
 
 HER WORLD AGAINST A LIE. 
 PEERESS AND PLAYER. 
 FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS. 
 A BROKEN BLOSSOM. 
 
 THE HEIR-PRESUMPTIVE. 
 THE HEART OF JANE WARNER. 
 UNDER THE LILIES & ROSES. 
 MY OWN CHILD. 
 
 MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. 
 By ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs Pender Cudlip). 
 HER SUCCESS. I JENIFER. 
 
 KATE VALLIANT. I ALLERTON TOWERS. 
 
 FRIENDS AND LOVERS. 
 By LADY CONSTANCE HOWARD. 
 MATED WITH A CLOWN. | MOLLIE DARLING. 
 
 ONLY A VILLAGE MAIDEN. | SWEETHEART AND WIFE. 
 
 By MRS HOUSTOUN, Author of " Recommended to Mercy." 
 
 BARBARA'S WARNING. 
 
 By MRS ALEXANDER FRASER. 
 
 THE MATCH OF THE SEASON. | A FATAL PASSION. 
 
 A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. 
 
 By IZA DUFFUS HARDY. 
 
 ONLY A LOVE STORY. | NOT EASILY JEALOUS. 
 
 LOVE, HONOUR AND OBEY. 
 
 By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. 
 POISONEDARROWS. 
 By MRS H. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 IN A GRASS COUNTRY. | A DEAD PAST. 
 
 A NORTH COUNTRY MAID. 
 By DORA RUSSELL. I By LADY VIOLET GREVILLE. 
 
 OUT OF EDEN. I KEITH'S WIFE. 
 
 By NELLIE FORTESCUE HARRISON, Author of " So Runs my Dream. 
 
 FOR ONE man's PLEASURE. 
 
 By EDMUND LEATHES. 
 
 THE A C T O r's WIFE. 
 
 By HARRIETT JAY. 
 
 A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE. 
 
 COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
 
 DRIVEN TO BAY.
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2009 witii funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/driventobaynovel01lean
 
 DRIVEN TO BAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JACK, THE SAILOR. 
 
 HE August sun had just sunk 
 below the horizon, as Jack 
 Blythe, a passenger by the 
 down train from London to Portsmouth, 
 walked leisurely home to a little cottage 
 situated on Southsea Common. 
 
 He was a tall, well-built young fellow 
 of five - and - twenty, with a remarkably 
 graceful figure. His hair was pale brown, 
 with the faintest tinge of gold upon it ; 
 his eyes were grey and languid in their 
 
 VOL. I. A
 
 2 Driven to Bay. 
 
 expression — his general appearance some- 
 what deHcate. And yet Jack Blyihe (who 
 had been christened Vernon) was one of 
 the merriest, most manly fellows in ex- 
 istence. The very fact of his proper 
 name having been mysteriously changed 
 to 'Jack' was a proof of his being a 
 favourite with his own sex : as for the 
 other, they, one and all, combined to 
 spoil him. Few, seeing Jack for the first 
 time, would have guessed his profession. 
 He looked like a poet, but he was a 
 sailor, and belonged to the roughest part 
 of the profession — the Merchant Service. 
 He had been educated, indeed, with a 
 view to very different work ; but when 
 it was too late for him to enter the Royal 
 Navy, he had intimated his unalterable 
 decision to go to sea, and his mother, 
 who was his only surviving parent, had, 
 with many tears, consented to his wishes. 
 But he was a good son and a good sailor, 
 and she had never repented of letting 
 him have his own way.
 
 Jack, the Sailor. 3 
 
 As he approached his destination, he 
 was accosted by another young man who 
 had run half-way across the common to 
 meet him. 
 
 ' Hullo, Jack ! how are you ? You're 
 the very man I want,' cried the new-comer 
 effusively. 
 
 * What for, Reynolds ? To pull an oar 
 in a boating party, or to rig up a tent 
 for a camping - out expedition ? ' asked 
 Blythe. 
 
 ' Better than that, old boy ! I've bought 
 that little yacht, the Water Witch, at last, 
 and you must sail her for me. I have 
 my party all ready, and we can start for 
 the Island to-morrow morning.' 
 
 * I should very much like to join you, 
 old man,' said Jack, * but it can't be done. 
 I may have to go to town again to-morrow 
 to meet an influential friend.' 
 
 ' Hang it ! You are always going up 
 io town ! ' ejaculated the other. ' One day 
 off can surely do you no harm.' 
 
 * It might, at present, Reynolds. I
 
 4 Driven to Bay. 
 
 have stayed on shore too long already, 
 and I find some difficulty in getting a 
 ship. I have sent in my application for 
 a berth on board the Pandora, and as I 
 have good Interest, I hope I may get it. 
 But nothing is certain in this world, and 
 I cannot afford to relax my energies until 
 I am provided for. You see my twelve- 
 month's pay is nearly gone — that's where 
 the shoe pinches ; so, if I lose my chance 
 of the Pandora^ I shall have to hunt 
 up all the skippers and owners in the 
 docks.' 
 
 'You'll get a ship fast enough,' grumbled 
 Reynolds ; ' you've passed for chief officer. 
 What more do you want ? Come, old 
 boy,' he continued coaxingly, ' say you'll 
 give up to-morrow to the Water Witch 
 and me — ' 
 
 ' I will, if it is possible ! I can say no 
 more,' replied Jack Blythe. 
 
 ' Alice Leyton has promised to accom- 
 pany us,' resumed Reynolds, meaningly. 
 
 'Has she?' remarked Jack without a
 
 Jack, the Sailor. 5 
 
 blush. 'Well, If I can join the party, 
 she will prove an extra attraction to it, 
 naturally. But it is as necessary for her 
 sake as for my own that I should get 
 employment as soon as possible.' 
 
 And, with a wave oi the hand, Jack 
 Blythe continued his walk to his mother's 
 cottage. 
 
 ' I don't believe he cares a rap for that 
 girl,' thought Reynolds, as he, too, turned 
 homewards. ' Fancy ! calmly resigning 
 a whole day on the water with the 
 woman he is supposed to be in love 
 with. Bah ! The fellow's not made of 
 flesh and blood.' 
 
 But in this, as in many things, Mr 
 Reynolds was mistaken. It was a hard 
 trial for Vernon Blythe to relinquish what 
 was, to him, one of the greatest pleasures 
 in life. He would have given anything 
 in reason to have had an opportunity to 
 test the sailing powers, and seen the be- 
 haviour of the saucy little Water Witch 
 under his guidance ; and for a while he
 
 6 Driven to Bay. 
 
 felt half disposed to gratify his desire at 
 the expense of his duty. 
 
 'Shall I go?' he asked himself as he 
 strode onwards. * After all, it will only 
 be a day more, and I don't half like the 
 idea of Alice going without me. She 
 doesn't mean any harm, I know — still, 
 she is rather free in her manners, and 
 apt to say more than she means, and 
 Reynolds certainly admires her. Pshaw ! 
 I am talking nonsense ! I have promised 
 to meet Mr Barber, and I must be firm. 
 Besides, if Alice is not to be trusted on 
 a water-party without my protection, how 
 am I to leave her (as I soon may) to 
 take a voyage to New Zealand alone ? I 
 must trust her "all in all, or not at all." I 
 was a fool even to think of such a thing ! ' 
 
 And starting off at a brisk pace, he 
 soon reached his mother's cottage. 
 
 Mrs Blythe was on the look-out for 
 her son's return. He was her only child, 
 and she loved him as only a mother can 
 love the one treasure of her heart. His
 
 yack, the Sailor. 7 
 
 father, who was an officer in the Royal 
 Navy, had been drowned at sea whilst 
 Vernon was a baby, and it had been the 
 one wish of her widowed life that her 
 boy should not be a sailor. But as he 
 grew up, the inherited instinct developed 
 itself, and she had been forced to part 
 with her darling ; since which her life 
 had been divided into two parts only — 
 the days when Vernon was at home, and 
 the days when he was not. Mrs Blythe 
 always called her son 'Vernon.' It had 
 been her own maiden name, and she 
 would recognise him by no other. She 
 thought the nickname of ' Jack ' both low 
 and vulgar, and was disgusted whenever 
 she heard him addressed by it. She was 
 a round, rosy little woman, very unlike 
 her son, who inherited his beauty from 
 his father, but she was a good mother 
 to him, and he loved her devotedly. Al- 
 though she had such good reason to hate 
 and dread the sea, yet she felt she could 
 not live away from it, and had been
 
 8 ^Driven to Bay. 
 
 settled In Southsea ever since her hus- 
 band's death. Her cottage, which faced 
 the common, was surrounded by a pretty 
 garden, enclosed by a wooden paling and 
 a little rustic gate. The room where she 
 awaited her son was neatly furnished, the 
 walls being covered with the curiosities 
 which Vernon, and his father before him, 
 had brought her home from different 
 parts of the world. Talipots and fans 
 from Rangoon, and bangles and hookahs 
 from Calcutta hung by the side of skins 
 and palm - leaf trophies from the West 
 Coast, and green stone and carved wooden 
 weapons from Maori land. Daintily- 
 painted boxes, and wonderfully - carved 
 pagodas were piled up with ornamented 
 whales' teeth, and the inexhaustible fern 
 leaves from St Helena, and necklaces 
 and poisoned spears from the Sandwich 
 Islands. Here, in fact, were to be seen 
 specimens of art from every quarter of 
 the globe, and with a story attached to 
 each, marking the milestones along the
 
 Jack, the Sailor. 9 
 
 widow's path of life, and hallowed by her 
 smiles and tears. The room had more 
 the appearance of a museum than a 
 private dining-room, but these innumer- 
 able curiosities were Mrs Blythe's greatest 
 treasures, over which she brooded whilst her 
 son was absent on his long sea voyages. 
 She had had him all to herself for twelve 
 months now, but the holiday was draw- 
 ing to a close, and each day she dreaded 
 to hear him say that he must leave her. 
 
 ' Well, Vernon, my darling ! ' she ex- 
 claimed anxiously, as he entered the room 
 where his tea was ready laid for him ; 
 * what news have you to-day ? ' 
 
 ' None in particular, mother,' he replied, 
 throwing himself into a chair. ' I have 
 been to dozens of firms, but it is the old 
 story with all of them.' 
 
 ' Something will spring up by-and-by,' 
 said Mrs Blythe, soothingly, * and for my 
 part I don't care how long it may be first. 
 But have your tea now, dear. I am sure 
 you must be tired.'
 
 lO Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' I am dead beat,' replied Vernon, draw- 
 ing his chair to the table. ' I called to-day 
 on Stern & Stales, and saw their ship's 
 husband about the appointment on board 
 the Pandora. I told him how very- 
 anxious I am to get it, but he is not sure 
 if it is given away. However, he has four 
 passenger ships all going to New Zealand, 
 and if the Pandora! s berth is filled, he has 
 promised to try and get me on one of 
 the others. If I don't hear from him by 
 to-morrow I am to go up and see him 
 again.' 
 
 Mrs Blythe gave a shrug of impatience. 
 
 ' I can't think,' she said somewhat testily, 
 ' why you should be so dreadfully anxious 
 to sail in the Pandora! 
 
 Her son regarded her with mild surprise. 
 
 ' Why, mother, you know that the Ley- 
 tons have secured their passages by her. 
 What is more natural than I should wish 
 to go too ? ' 
 
 ' Well, if you do your duty on board 
 ship, as I know you always do, you will
 
 Jack, the Sailor. 1 1 
 
 have no time to waste on making love to 
 Alice Leyton.' 
 
 Vernon laughed in his lazy fashion. 
 
 * Perhaps not ! but I shall be near her in 
 case of her requiring me, and when we get 
 to New Zealand, I shall see her father 
 and eet the matter settled. It is time 
 it was settled, mother. We have been 
 engaged now for nearly a year, and I 
 suppose that, sooner or later, we must 
 be married.' 
 
 ' It had better be later, then,' replied 
 Mrs Blythe, hotly. ' For my part, I think 
 it is nonsense to hear you talk of such a 
 thing as marriage. A child like you, and 
 without any money.' 
 
 ' The last objection is unfortunately 
 true enough,' replied Vernon ; ' but as for 
 being a child — well, all I can say is, I 
 don't feel like one. And if Alice chooses 
 to marry a poor man, that is her business, 
 and no one else's.' 
 
 'There is a much greater objection to 
 the marriage, in my opinion, than that,
 
 12 Driven to Bay. 
 
 urged Mrs Blythe. * I don't think Alice 
 Ley ton really cares for you.' 
 
 ' Oh, mother, why should you say so. 
 What right have you to think it. I should 
 never have proposed to her if I had not 
 seen plainly that she cared for me.' 
 
 'Any fool could see that she set her 
 cap at you, Vernon. But she is not the 
 only girl that has done that. And she is 
 a flirt, my dear. I daresay you will be 
 angry with me, but I must speak the truth. 
 Whilst you are away in London, Alice 
 Leyton is running about the common and 
 the pier with any man she can get hold 
 of, and chattering — dear ! dear ! how that 
 girl's tongue does run. I pity you if you 
 are ever shut up with it between four 
 walls.' 
 
 The young man did not seem in the 
 least angry at this tirade. He waited till 
 his mother had finished, and then he 
 answered very quietly, but determinately. 
 
 * Look here, mother dear. You mustn't 
 speak in that way of Alice. Remember
 
 yack, the Sailo7' 
 
 13 
 
 she will be my wife. Besides, you are 
 quite mistaken. She is not a flirt at all. 
 She is very high-spirited, and has been 
 brought up in a free and easy manner 
 (what with her father being away and her 
 mother an invalid), but that will be all 
 altered by-and-by. She loves me very 
 dearly, for aught you may think, and when 
 she is my wife, she will be all that you can 
 wish her to be — of that I am very sure.' 
 
 * She may well love you,' said Mrs 
 Blythe, looking fondly at her son ; ' who 
 could help loving you, Vernon ? But 
 there is another side to the question, Do 
 you love her ? ' 
 
 At that he started, and looked uneasy. 
 Still his answer was given manfully. 
 
 * Of course I do. Who wouldn't ? A 
 dear, sweet little girl like that. Why, 
 mother, when I look at Alice, I think 
 sometimes she's just the very prettiest girl 
 I've ever seen. Such eyes and teeth and 
 skin ! And such a merry smile ! She's 
 the very impersonation of a sunbeam ! A
 
 14 Driven to Bay. 
 
 man couldn't be unhappy with a creature 
 Hke that by his side. She'd make him 
 laugh at a funeral.' 
 
 ' I acknowledge all that,' said Mrs 
 Blythe, shaking her head oracularly ; ' but 
 giggles and blushes and good eyes don't 
 make the happiness of a man's life, when 
 there's nothing else behind them. And 
 sometimes, my boy,' she continued, coming 
 round to his side and putting her hand 
 caressingly upon his hair, ' sometimes I 
 fancy — now don't be angry with me, dear, 
 for 1 wouldn't vex you for the world — 
 but sometimes I have thought — ' 
 
 ' Well, mother, what have you thought ?' 
 asked Vernon, as he took her hand in his 
 and laid his cheek against it. 
 
 ' That Alice Leyton is not your first 
 fancy, Vernon, and that my boy has had a 
 disappointment of which I have never 
 heard.' 
 
 His youthful cheek grew crimson, then. 
 She could see the blood mounting to his 
 forehead and the roots of his hair. And
 
 Jack, the Sailor. 15 
 
 when he answered her his voice seemed 
 suddenly to have changed. 
 
 ' And what then ? ' he said curtly. 
 
 * Is there no hope — no chance — my 
 darling ? ' asked Mrs Blythe. 
 
 ' Not the slightest. Had there been, do 
 you suppose I should have been engaged 
 to Alice Leyton ? I don't know how you 
 have guessed there was ever another, 
 mother, but it all happened a long time 
 ago, and I have nearly forgotten it.' 
 
 ' Vernon, my dear, that is not true. 
 You cannot have forgotten it, or the allu- 
 sion would not move you in this manner. 
 And as for ''long ago," why, you were 
 only five-and-twenty last month. How 
 soon did you begin to fall in love ? ' 
 
 ' Never mind that, mother. Whenever 
 it occurred, or however it affected me, it is 
 a thing of the past, and I would rather 
 you never spoke of it to me or any one 
 again.' 
 
 * And won't you tell me who it was ? ' 
 said Mrs Blythe, kissing his forehead.
 
 1 6 Driven to Bay, 
 
 'What is the use?' he rejoined, wearily. 
 
 Yet he knew, as he asked the question, 
 that to tell her everything would be a 
 relief to him. He had suffered very 
 deeply, and in all other sufferings but this 
 his mother had been his true confidant and 
 friend. And so, with a little gentle coax- 
 ing on her part, as they sat together when 
 the evening meal was concluded, he was 
 induced to tell his tale.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 VERNON, THE LOVER. 
 
 '^'\^j^3j EW people who had only seen 
 ~ '42 Vernon Blythe when in the 
 
 ^^ pursuit of the manly exercises 
 in which most sailors delight, and in which 
 he especially excelled, would have recog- 
 nised him now as he lay back in his chair, 
 with his delicate profile clearly limned 
 against the evening sky, and a look of 
 abject pain in the eyes that watched the 
 curling wreaths of smoke that ascended 
 from his pipe. There were two distinct 
 sides to this young man's character, as 
 there are to that of most of us. To the 
 outside world, and in the pursuit of his 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 1 8 Driven to Bay. 
 
 profession, he was known as one of the 
 most daring, courageous, and undaunted 
 of natures, — a man who did not know what 
 it was to fear danger, to dread a risk, or 
 to leave an insult unavenged. He was 
 brave, imprudent, and hot-headed, but 
 strictly generous and honourable. With 
 his mother, however, and in the sanctity 
 of home, he was a different creature. 
 There his heart rose uppermost, and he 
 became less guarded in his looks and 
 speech. There, as it were, he thought 
 less of his manhood and men friends, and 
 more of himself and his private feelings. 
 And so the secret, which he believed to be 
 entirely his own property, had slipped from 
 him unawares, and become his mother's. 
 But who can hide a beloved child's suffer- 
 ing from the eyes of his mother '^, And 
 Vernon felt glad now that it was so. 
 
 ' Do you remember,' he began presently, 
 and in a lower voice than usual, — * do 
 you remember, mother, the time after my 
 second voyage, when I had had that touch
 
 Vernon, the Lover. 19 
 
 of Gold Coast fever, and you sent me up 
 to Uncle Vernon's in Selkirk for three 
 months to recruit ? ' 
 
 * Certainly, dear. What of it ? ' 
 
 * That was the time that it happened.' 
 Mrs Blythe almost jumped with surprise. 
 ' But, good gracious, Vernon, you were 
 
 too young for anything then ! It must be 
 — let me see — quite five years ago. You 
 were not a day over twenty.' 
 
 * I was old enough, it seems, to love — 
 and to remember,' he answered quietly. 
 
 ' And you have thought of the girl all 
 this time ? It appears incredible.' 
 
 * Nevertheless it is true. But you must 
 not infer from my words that I have been 
 grieving after her all this time. That would 
 be most unfair to Alice Leyton, and it 
 would not be correct. I cannot forget her 
 — I wish I could — but I have ceased to 
 lament the inevitable. Only, it has cast 
 a shadow over my life — which you seem 
 to have perceived, and which I know will 
 be there until I die.
 
 20 D^Hven to Bay. 
 
 * Oh, my dear boy, you mustn't say that. 
 Everybody has a love-affair or so before 
 they settle down. Even / — dearly as I 
 loved your father — had had several ad- 
 mirers before I met him.' 
 
 ' Of course you had,' rejoined Vernon 
 fondly, with the old manner that seemed 
 sometimes to sit so strangely on his youth- 
 ful appearance ; ' heaps of them, I should 
 say, if the young men of that day had 
 any gumption about them. I often think, 
 mother, what a dear, charming, genuine 
 sort of girl you must have been.' 
 
 He pinched her cheek as he spoke, and 
 Mrs Blythe felt happier at receiving his 
 compliment, than she had ever done when 
 the young men he alluded to had paid 
 theirs. 
 
 ' Now don't be foolish, my darling,' she 
 said, with an assumption of indifference, 
 as she settled her head-dress. ' But what 
 I say is true. First love-affairs are seldom 
 lasting.' 
 
 * I daresay not ; I hope not ; although
 
 Verizon, the Lover. 21 
 
 I fancy I have reached the cHmax of my 
 forgetfulness. Five years is a long time 
 to fret after a woman, and, indeed, I have 
 tried hard to banish her from my mind. 
 It is only fair to dear little Alice that I 
 should do so.' 
 
 ' But what went wrong with it, my 
 boy ? ' 
 
 ' Everything, mother ! I met her at a 
 friend of uncle's, and I loved her from the 
 very first. But she did not love me, and 
 there was an end of it. In fact, there was 
 another fellow in the way.' 
 
 ' Was she so very beautiful, Vernon ? ' 
 
 'No, I think not — at least, I never 
 heard any one else say so. But to me 
 she seemed to have the most perfect face 
 I had ever seen. When I think of it 
 now, it looks like the face of an angel. 
 And everything she said and did seemed 
 right. I agreed with all her opinions. 
 We liked the same things — the same 
 people — the same pursuits. Oh ! what is 
 the use of thinkinof of it ? ' he continued
 
 2 2 * Driven to Bay. 
 
 impatiently ; ' I suppose it was my fate to 
 meet her, and love her, and carry her 
 remembrance in my heart for ever after- 
 wards. I have spoken of her this once, 
 mother, because you asked me. But it 
 must never be again. I cannot bear it ! ' 
 ' But why couldn't she love you .^ ' said 
 Mrs Blythe plaintively. * It was cruel of 
 her not to undeceive you — such a lad as 
 you were — from the very beginning.' 
 
 ' That was not her fault, mother. You 
 must not blame her. I don't think she 
 was aware of my love until I confessed 
 it to her. And then it was too late.' 
 *How ''too late" .^' 
 
 ' She was already engaged to be mar- 
 ried to another man — a man of fashion 
 and means, and five years my senior — and 
 two months afterwards she became his 
 wife, and there was an end to my mad 
 dream for ever. And perhaps it was 
 better so than that she should have re- 
 mained single, and I gone on hop ng 
 against hope.'
 
 Vernon^ the Lover, 23 
 
 'What is her name, Vernon ?' 
 
 * Mother dear, I cannot tell you her 
 name. Don't ask me to do it. It is 
 sacred to me, as I thought my secret was, 
 and I could not bear to think it had 
 passed my lips. Remember her only as 
 the one great love of your son's life : 
 it is the highest title you can give her.' 
 
 ' And do you know her husband '^. * 
 asked Mrs Blythe. 
 
 * No, certainly not/ he answered roughly, 
 * and, from all I have heard of him, I 
 never wish to know him. Let us drop the 
 subject. But you will understand better 
 now my anxiety to marry Alice Leyton. 
 Nothing could contribute more to the 
 healine of this mental wound than the 
 constant presence of a woman who loves 
 me. The sunshine she will bring with 
 her will chase the last shadow away.' 
 
 'It is terrible to hear you talk of 
 ** shadows " at your age, Vernon,' replied 
 Mrs Blythe, wiping her eyes. 
 
 * Nonsense ! ' he cried lightly, as he
 
 24 Driven to Bay. 
 
 sprang from his chair ; * we all have them, 
 more or less. My lot is no worse than 
 that of other men. If you treat my con- 
 fidence in this serious strain, I shall never 
 give you another.' 
 
 ' No, don't say that, my boy,' replied 
 his mother. ' I love you for having 
 spoken to me as you have, and from this 
 day I will never open my lips upon the 
 matter.' 
 
 ' That's right,' said Vernon, as he kissed 
 her. 'And now I'm going down to the 
 beach to have a look at the Wate7' Witch, 
 that is anchored against the pier. I'll be 
 back to supper,' and, with his pipe in his 
 mouth, and a forced smile upon his lips, 
 he left her to herself.' 
 
 Having thoughtfully traversed the com- 
 mon that lay between them and the sea, 
 Vernon Blythe sat down on a bench just 
 opposite where the yacht was anchored, 
 and surveyed her carefully. She certainly 
 was a very pretty little craft. Her narrow 
 black hull, with its golden stripe, and her
 
 Ve7'no7i^ the Lover. 25 
 
 tapering mast so gracefully raked, showed 
 she was built for speed and fine-weather 
 sailing, and the very sight of her made 
 BIythe wish that he could retract his 
 promise to the shipowner. 
 
 ' Guess who it is ! ' cried a merry 
 voice behind him, as a pair of hands 
 w^ere laid upon his eyes. 
 
 ' It's Alice, and you may belay that,' 
 replied Vernon, in the same tone. ' You, 
 have nearly pulled my moustaches out 
 by the roots, and blinded me with my 
 own tobacco ash. Be sensible for once 
 if you can, and come round and sit down 
 on the bench beside me.' 
 
 Alice Leyton, who was attired some- 
 what gaily for a promenade in a garrison 
 town, wTiggled coquettishly to the front 
 of the seat, and stood smiling at her lover. 
 She was just what he had called her to 
 his mother — one of the merriest, brightest 
 girls in existence. She was only eighteen 
 years old. Her sunny hair hung in wav- 
 ing curls about her face, and her laugh-
 
 26 Driven to Bay, 
 
 ing blue eyes, which never seemed dull 
 or weary, played fearful havoc with the 
 weaker sex. Yet Alice Leyton was no 
 coquette. She flirted and romped with 
 every one she could enlist under her 
 banner, but it was with a view to general 
 enjoyment, rather than to individual tri- 
 umph. But with all her prettiness (which 
 was undeniable) she did not look high- 
 class. She was dressed to attract atten- 
 tion — innocent, maybe, but still attention 
 — and she made the very most of her 
 neat ankles and small waist and well- 
 developed bust. Yet, after all, her charms 
 were natural, and so were her manners. 
 The ringing laugh and happy, youthful 
 face, the waving hair, and the fresh colour, 
 were all her own, and few men would 
 have been found to deny their fasci- 
 nation. 
 
 ' Kiss me, Jack,' she said effusively, 
 as she held her rosy mouth towards 
 him. 
 
 * Not just yet, my dear child,' he an-
 
 Vernon^ the Lover, 27 
 
 swered, smiling. ' Why, there are a 
 dozen people looking at us. Wait till 
 I get you to myself at home, and I'll 
 show you what kissing means.' 
 
 ' Horrid boy ! Perhaps I sha n't be 
 in the humour then. '* Paddy, take me 
 in the mind, and that's just now," ' 
 pouted Alice. 
 
 * Well, you shouldn't get in the mind 
 in the middle of the common,' returned 
 Jack. ' You come and sit down, like a 
 good girl, and behave yourself properly.' 
 
 ' I've got something to tell you,' she 
 said, as she nestled up against him. 
 
 * Spin away, Pussie ! I'm all attention.' 
 
 * You see the Water Witch lying there ?' 
 continued Alice. ' Bob Reynolds has 
 bought her, and he is going to have 
 a water-party to-morrow, and wants me 
 to join it ; but I told him I couldn't go 
 without you.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I see now why Reynolds was 
 so anxious for my company,' said Jack. 
 * I thought it queer he should ask me to
 
 2 8 Di^iren to Bay. 
 
 sail the Water Witch for the first time, 
 when he boasts so much of his own sea- 
 manship/ 
 
 * He has asked you then ! ' cried AHce. 
 * And you will go, won't you, dear Jack ? ' 
 
 ' I am sorry to say I cannot promise/ 
 said Blythe, pulling his moustaches. ' I 
 may be obliged to go up to town. I told 
 Reynolds so an hour ago.' 
 
 ' And I sha'n't be able to go then,' said 
 Alice, in a tone of vexation. 
 
 ' But why not, dear ? Do you think 
 that I cannot trust you, or that I am so 
 selfish as to grudge you any enjoyment in 
 which I cannot take part myself We 
 must not begin life on those terms, Alice. 
 A sailor must always be prepared to part 
 from his wife, and our marriage must be 
 one of perfect trust on both sides, or it had 
 better never take place at all.' 
 
 ' Oh, bother marriage ! ' cried Alice. ' Who 
 was thinking of such rubbish ? Not I. 
 All I meant was, that I should be afraid 
 to trust myself to Bob Reynolds without
 
 Vernon, the Lover. 29 
 
 you. Do you know that one day last year, 
 when you were in Calcutta, he took me 
 out in a boat, and toppled me into the 
 water, and if it had not been for old Jerry 
 Sparks, the waterman, pulling off in his 
 punt, I might have been drowned.' 
 
 ' He's an awkward landlubber,' said Jack, 
 as he passed one of her curls through his 
 finorers. 
 
 ' That's a cool way of taking it, Jack. 
 But it's true, I can tell you. He "cracked 
 on" till the gunwale was under water, and 
 we all had to sit up to windward, and then 
 played pranks with the sail until he over- 
 turned the boat. And you wouldn't like 
 to see me drowned, would you. Jack ? ' she 
 continued insinuatingly. 
 
 * No ! That would not be nice at all,' 
 replied her lover ; ' besides, it would spoil 
 that pretty dress.' 
 
 * Well, then, will you go and take care 
 of me ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose I shall have to in the end ; 
 that is, if you are determined to have your
 
 30 Driven to Bay. 
 
 own way. Like the blessed Saint Anthony, 
 I have resisted all the other temptations, 
 but the last one always proves too much 
 for me. Do you know that I have a 
 chance of going out with you to New 
 Zealand, Alice, as second officer in the 
 Pandora ? ' 
 
 * Have you really ? Oh, that will be 
 great fun. But I hope they won't let you 
 do what you like with the ship, or you 
 may run us on a rock, or something 
 horrid.' 
 
 * Thank you for the compliment. But 
 I think you may feel perfectly safe — not 
 with me, but in the Pandora' 
 
 ' Is she such a good ship then ? ' 
 
 * She is an iron clipper, registered Ai at 
 Lloyd's.' 
 
 * Now I am as wise as before.' 
 
 * You will soon find out all about her 
 when you get aboard. And I hope sin- 
 cerely I may be there too. You can guess 
 the reason I am so anxious to visit New 
 Zealand, Alice.'
 
 Vernon, the Lover, 31 
 
 * I can't. What is it ? ' demanded Alice, 
 with open eyes. 
 
 * Because I want to make the personal 
 acquaintance of your father, and get him 
 to fix some definite time for our marriage. 
 I think it is time we were married, 
 AHce.' 
 
 ' / don't ! ' cried the girl, shrugging her 
 shoulders. 
 
 * Oh, yes, you do. That is only a little 
 bit of mock modesty, put on for the occa- 
 sion. At any rate, that is my intention, 
 in applying for a berth in the Pandora. 
 Your mother is all kindness to me, 
 but I think she is just a little afraid 
 of what your father may say to our 
 engagement.' 
 
 ' You see,' said Alice, kicking the stones 
 with her feet, ' father is very well off, and 
 there are only two of us, and mother thinks 
 perhaps — ' 
 
 ' That he will not consider me a good 
 enough match for his eldest daughter. 
 Well, with regard to money, that is true
 
 32 Driven to Bay. 
 
 enough, although my birth is second to 
 
 none 
 
 ' But / love you Jack, remember,' said 
 Alice, ' and I mean to marry you, whatever 
 any one may say against It.' 
 
 'Well, dearest, it will be better to get 
 the matter settled anyway. I am sorry 
 now that your mother has not been more 
 explicit with Mr Leyton, but she preferred 
 to speak to him herself on the subject. If 
 I am lucky, I shall be there too, and 
 between us all, w^e must carry the 
 day.' 
 
 ' Unless father thinks that, as mother is 
 such an invalid, it is my duty to remain 
 with her and take care of her. Baby is of 
 no use, you know.' 
 
 ' Alice !' exclaimed Blythe suddenly, ' tell 
 me the truth ! Do you want to marry 
 me?' 
 
 'Why, of course I do. Jack. Didn't I 
 fall in love with your handsome face the 
 first day we met ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, bother my handsome face ! ' cried
 
 Vernon^ the Lover. 33 
 
 the young man impetuously. * Do you 
 love me ? That is the question ? Does 
 your heart speak to mine ?' 
 
 'How tiresome you are to-night,' returned 
 Alice. ' What have I ever done to make 
 you think I don't love you ? Haven't we 
 talked of being married, and told all our 
 friends about it for a year past ? Why/ 
 she continued in a shy tone, * I marked 
 one of my handkerchiefs a. b. the other 
 day, just to see how it looked, and I 
 thought it was lovely! 
 
 ' Dear girl,' said Jack patronisingly^ 
 * that is finally settled then. Whether I 
 sail in the Pandora or not, I shall make 
 my way out to New Zealand and ask 
 your father to give you to me for my 
 wife.' 
 
 ' But that will not be for a long time yet, 
 and so we need not talk of it any more,' 
 replied Alice. ' Here is your mother,' 
 Jack, coming across the common to meet 
 us.' 
 
 Vernon rose as his mother advanced 
 VOL. I. c
 
 34 Driven to Bay. 
 
 towards them. His politeness to her was 
 as great as it was to other women. 
 
 ' Here is a letter for you from Stern & 
 Stales, my dear,' said Mrs Blythe, ' so I 
 thought you would wish to see it at 
 once.' 
 
 ' Thanks,' cried Vernon, as he tore open 
 the envelope. ' Mother ! you have joined 
 us most opportunely. Listen. 
 
 ' '' Dear Sir, — An accident has hap- 
 pened to the second officer of the Pan- 
 dora through the snapping of an iron 
 chain, which will prevent him from sailing 
 in the vessel. 
 
 *''I am able, therefore, most unexpectedly 
 to offer you the appointment you desire. 
 If you will be at the shipping office on 
 the seventeenth instant at twelve o'clock 
 to meet Captain Robarts, you can sign 
 the necessary articles." 
 
 * There's good luck, mother. Won't you 
 wish me joy ? Alice ! we are to be ship-
 
 Vernon, the Lover. 35 
 
 mates, and I can make up my mind now. 
 I will join the party on the Water Witch 
 to-morrow, and see that you behave your- 
 self steadily. Mother ! I shall want all my 
 things to be ready by the twenty-third.' 
 
 But Mrs Blythe was already half-way 
 back across the common, sobbing as if her 
 heart would break.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IRIS HARLAND. 
 
 N the same evening that the 
 newly-appointed officer of the 
 Pandora was congratulating 
 himself on his good luck, and trying to 
 deceive himself into believing he was in 
 love with the girl he was engaged to 
 marry, a very different scene was being 
 enacted in a furnished lodging in one of 
 the smaller streets of Pimlico. The chief 
 actor there was also a man — young, good- 
 looking, and a gentleman — but with dis- 
 tinct traces on his countenance of the 
 tempest of passions and vices he had 
 passed through. He called himself Godfrey
 
 /rz> Harland. 2>7 
 
 Harland. He was a fine, well-built man, 
 with dark hair, an olive complexion, and 
 a black moustache. His eyes, which were 
 also dark and piercing, were set too near 
 his nose for honesty, and had a cunning, 
 distrustful look in them. His mouth was 
 small, with thin compressed lips that 
 covered a set of strong white teeth, and 
 his jaw was heavy and determined. As 
 he sat, pondering over his past and his 
 future, with a cigar between his lips, and 
 a glass of brandy and water in his hand, 
 he looked evil, and almost dangerous. 
 Godfrey Harland had had a chequered 
 life. His father had possessed a large 
 fortune, and given his son, whilst young, 
 the advantages not only of a liberal 
 education and college training, but un- 
 limited money to supply himself with all 
 the luxuries, and indulge in all the dis- 
 sipations of life. But one day the crash 
 came. Godfrey's father lost all his money 
 in that great lottery which has ruined so 
 many thousands, the Stock Exchange,
 
 38 Driven to Bay. 
 
 and his son suffered with him. He was 
 at once withdrawn from college, his ample 
 allowance was stopped, and he was told 
 he must go out into the world and sup- 
 port himself. With some great souls a 
 reverse of fortune proves a stimulus to 
 exertion, and is the test that brings out 
 their virtues. But w^eaker natures fail 
 under it, and Godfrey Harland's nature 
 was essentially weak. By reason of his 
 father's former influence in the city, he 
 was soon installed as clerk in one of the 
 best-known London firms. Before he 
 had been there three months, however, 
 a mysterious forgery was committed by 
 some one in the house, and before the 
 offender could be discovered Godfrey had 
 fled to America, thereby leaving a dark 
 suspicion on his own name. 
 
 In the United States he had tried his 
 hand at everything. He tilled the ground 
 and lived with the farm hands in the 
 warry on pork and beans. He joined 
 an old trapper in the Rocky Mountains,
 
 Iris Harland. 39 
 
 where he had many a rough struggle 
 with the ' grlzzHes,' and left him for a 
 cattle-herder on a ranche in Texas, where 
 he earned the soubriqtiet of ' Satan ' 
 amongst the drovers, for his dare-devil 
 propensities. He was engaged in many 
 a night raid on the Indians, and sat in 
 his saddle for three days before a cattle 
 stampede, and ' knifed ' or ' winged ' more 
 than one man in that wild territory, where 
 shooting a fellow-creature is thought no 
 more of than felling a buffalo. 
 
 In fact, Godfrey Harland had been 
 everything by turns. A guard on the 
 Grand Trunk — a baggage man to a 
 theatrical company — an able seaman on 
 a coaster — and last, though not least, a 
 barman at a ' hell-upon-earth ' in New 
 York, where he had imbibed his gambling 
 propensities, and whence he had ventured 
 to return to England under an assumed 
 name — not the first he had taken — and 
 make a new circle of acquaintances for 
 himself.
 
 40 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' Curse that '' Peppermint ! " ' he was 
 saying, when we first see him ; ' if he 
 had pulled it off at Aintree, I should 
 have been safe. I can't stand much 
 more of this. They must come down 
 upon me before long. I wouldn't have 
 minded my shaking at the Lincoln, 
 though it was stiff enough. But I believe 
 they dosed '' Peppermint," and I owe all 
 my debts to a painted quid. By Jove ! 
 I should like to know how much old 
 Roper's worth. If he would stand to 
 lend me a "thou.," I might make my 
 running with Vansittart's daughter. I 
 wonder if the old stock-driver meant what 
 he said the other night ? Gad ! what a 
 stroke of luck it would be. A home at 
 the Antipodes — a settled position with 
 all the old worries left behind me in 
 England, and the chance of an heiress. 
 I mustn't lose it, if I stake my very soul 
 upon the die. I shall never get such an 
 opportunity of retrenching again. Not if 
 I live to the age of Methusaleh. Never! '
 
 Iris Harland. 41 
 
 And he drained the glass of brandy 
 and water with a feverish impatience, as 
 though the good fortune he was anti- 
 cipating lay at the bottom of it. 
 
 At this juncture the door of the room 
 opened, and a woman entered. What a 
 woman she was. What a graceful, refined, 
 spirituelle creature. Her slight, lissom 
 figure was the impersonation of elegance. 
 Her hazel eyes looked out from her pale 
 features like those of a deer, heavy with 
 unshed tears. Her tender mouth was 
 even now curved in a sad smile, and her 
 sunny hair, with its rich chesnut shades 
 of light and shadow, rippled about her 
 shoulders, and curled caressingly around 
 her youthful face. She was dressed 
 shabbily, and somewhat untidily, for it 
 is hard to keep always tidy when one is 
 poor, but she looked a gentlewoman from 
 head to foot — more, she might have been 
 a princess, masquerading in a beggar's 
 clothes. And this was Iris Harland, 
 Godfrey Harland's wife. What could a
 
 42 Driven to Bay, 
 
 man like this want with a wife ? He 
 had never been constant to one thing In 
 this world. Was it likely he would be 
 constant to a woman ? Iris knew to her 
 cost that he was not. But she had already 
 outlived -the pain the knowledge gave 
 her. The numerous shocks she had sus- 
 tained since her marriage had rendered 
 her Indifferent. Many an insult she had 
 borne patiently from her husband, and 
 without resentment, until all her love had 
 died away, and left nothing behind It but 
 a feeling of contempt and fear. 
 
 Why had he married her ? Godfrey 
 Harland had often asked himself this 
 question and been unable to answer it. 
 He was the last man in the world who 
 should have encumbered himself with a 
 wife. But after his return from America, 
 he had met this girl living quietly with 
 her widowed father, and had fallen des- 
 perately in love with her purity and in- 
 nocence, so different from what he had 
 been accustomed to. And Iris had be-
 
 Iris Harland. 43 
 
 lleved him to be all that he was not. 
 His varied experiences, and able mode of 
 relating the wonders of his travels, had 
 fascinated her girlish heart, and made her 
 accept him as her life-long companion and 
 friend. But six months of married life 
 had undeceived her. By that time, re- 
 verses had come upon them, and the man's 
 brutal and selfish nature had revealed itself. 
 His passion for her had been simply an 
 infatuation. He had been delighted with 
 his pretty toy at first, but, like a spoiled 
 child, he spurned it, when it had becomie 
 familiar to him. He had wounded her 
 deeply by his indifference ; he had 
 frightened her with his violence and 
 threats, but it was his insults that had 
 stabbed her to the heart, and killed her 
 respect for him. Had he taken a horse- 
 whip and struck her (as he was quite 
 capable of doing), she might still have 
 forgiven him, but an insult to a woman's 
 honour is never forgotten, and seldom par- 
 doned. Many women will slave for their
 
 44 Driven to Bay, 
 
 husbands night and day — they will starve 
 themselves to keep the wolf from the 
 door, and give up home, relations, luxury, 
 everything, for the man they love. But as 
 soon as a man returns his wife's affection 
 by falsely impugning her honour — when he 
 accuses her of the infidelity of which he 
 alone has been guilty — he has severed 
 the last link that bound them together, 
 and has only himself to thank, if in the 
 future her outraged feelings find relief in 
 the very consolation he has unwarrantably 
 accused her of seeking. Such was the 
 state of things between Godfrey Harland 
 and his wife. A sullen sense of being in 
 the wrong on his side, and a great con- 
 tempt for all he did and said on hers — 
 and only one wish shared between them 
 in common, that they had never met ! 
 
 * Here is a letter for you,' said Mrs 
 Harland, as she placed it in his hand. 
 He opened and read it through in silence, 
 although he could not conceal the satis- 
 faction it gave him.
 
 Iris Harla7id, 45 
 
 * A man wants to see me on business. 
 I must go out to-night, and at once. Is 
 there any more brandy in the cupboard, 
 Iris ? ' said Godfrey, as he thrust the letter 
 into his coat pocket. 
 
 ' Is it advisable you should drink any 
 more if you are going to transact busi- 
 ness ? ' she inquired calmly. She had 
 observed her husband's expression on 
 reading the letter, and his ready con- 
 cealment of it, and she did not believe 
 it treated of business. But she did not 
 say so. If her marriage had done nothing 
 else for her, it had taught her to conceal 
 her thoughts. 
 
 ' Confound you ! ' he exclaimed. ' Do 
 you suppose I should ask for it, if I didn't 
 require it ^. Give it me at once, or else 
 send the girl out for some more. Pour 
 me out a soda, and put a couple of lemons 
 into it, and a spoonful of bitters. That 
 will pull me round a bit. I feel quite 
 confused with trying to see my way out 
 of the mess we are in.'
 
 46 Di^iven to Bay. 
 
 * Shall you be back to-night, Godfrey?' 
 ' Don't know. It all depends. Perhaps 
 I may be detained late. I've got to see 
 some fellows at the club ; but don't sit 
 up for me anyway. And just put out my 
 dress clothes, will you ? I can't go out 
 this figure,' and lifting the tankard to his 
 lips, he drained off his ' pick-me-up ' at a 
 draught. 
 
 His wife left him without another word. 
 Her lips were compressed, and her eyes 
 darted scorn, but she did not let him see 
 them. She knew he had lied to her, as 
 he had done for some time past, but if 
 she put him on his guard, she should 
 never- gain an opportunity to learn the 
 truth. So she laid out his evening suit 
 upon the bed, and placed his white tie 
 upon the toilet-table, and lighted the 
 candles just as though she believed he 
 would take all that trouble to meet some 
 man on business at a city club. And 
 Godfrey Harland fell into the trap. 
 Heated and confused by the amount of
 
 Iris Harland. 47 
 
 liquor he had imbibed, he forgot all about 
 the letter he had received, and issued from 
 'the bedroom half-an-hour afterwards in 
 full evening dress, leaving it behind him 
 in the pocket of his tweed coat. He did 
 not deign to say good-night to his wife, 
 nor to give her any further information 
 of his proceedings, but turning on his heel, 
 slammed the front door, and left the house. 
 When Iris was convinced that he was 
 really gone, she rose from her seat and 
 walked into the bedroom. 
 
 ' I mtcst know what takes him away 
 from home so often,' she thought. ' I 
 am sure it is not business, and if there 
 is any other woman in the case, it is time 
 I asserted myself, and took some action 
 in the matter. Under any circumstances, 
 he makes my life a hell, but there is no 
 need for me to bear more insult than I 
 am obliged to.' She put her hand into 
 the pocket of the coat which he had 
 thrown upon a chair, and drew forth the 
 letter. It was addressed in a writing
 
 48 Driven to Bay. 
 
 which looked half mercantile, and half 
 illiterate, and had a great many flourishes 
 about it. As Iris's eyes fell on its con- 
 tents, her pale face grew still paler with 
 horror. Godfrey had been brutal, unfaith- 
 ful, and cruel to her, but she had never 
 thought so badly of him as this — that 
 he could contemplate kicking her off like 
 an old shoe, and leaving her to starve 
 in England, whilst he sought his fortunes 
 in a new country. 
 
 And yet, what else could that letter 
 mean ? 
 
 ' Dear Mr Harland, — I have been 
 thinking over the conversation we had a 
 few days since ; and I have a proposition 
 to make to you. You are young, unen- 
 cumbered, and willing to work. Why not 
 take the appointment we were speaking of 
 — that of land-agent to my New Zealand 
 property, and sail with us in the Pandora, 
 Under these circumstances I shall be 
 happy and willing to defray your expenses
 
 Iris Harland. 49 
 
 to Tabbakooloo, which I should not have 
 offered under ordinary circumstances. Mrs 
 But Vansittart Hkes you, and so does 
 Grace — indeed, we all do, and should be 
 pleased to have such a friend in our Bush 
 life. Will you come in this evening and 
 speak to me on the subject, as there is no 
 time to lose. The Pandora (Messrs 
 Stern & Stales) sails on the 24th. Trust- 
 ing my proposal will please you, — I am,, 
 yours sincerely, John Vansittart.' 
 
 ' He means to accept this offer,' said 
 Iris, with clenched teeth, and trying hard 
 not to cry. ' He will go with these fine 
 friends of his to New Zealand, and I am 
 powerless to stop him. If I tell him I 
 know it, he will soothe me with promises 
 of remittances that will never come — and I 
 — Oh, God ! what can I do, left here all 
 by myself — without money or friends, or a 
 home ? Oh, if my poor father had only 
 lived I would have gone back to him to- 
 night and never, never left him more.' 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 Driven to Bay. 
 
 The picture drawn by her imagination 
 of her utter impotence to avert her fate, 
 here overcame poor Iris's fortitude, and 
 the tears welled up to her pathetic hazel 
 eyes, and coursed slowly down her cheeks. 
 But she did not know that she was sob- 
 bing, until a knock at the door made her 
 coo^nisant she had been overheard. 
 
 ' It's me, mistress,' w^hispered a rough 
 voice ; ' mayn't I come in ? ' 
 
 ' Oh yes, Maggie. What do you want ? ' 
 said Iris, drying her eyes. 
 
 ' Want!' echoed the servant, as she made 
 her appearance ; * why, to know what's 
 been vexing you. That's what I want.' 
 
 She was a dirty, slipshod girl, after the 
 fashion of maids-of-all-work in smoky 
 London, but she had youth and a certain 
 coarse comeliness about her which might 
 prove attractive to men who looked for 
 nothing below the surface. 
 
 * Has he been bulleying you agen ?' she 
 asked, with rough sympathy, as she stood 
 in the doorway and regarded her mistress.
 
 Iris Harland. 51 
 
 * It's a shame — that's what I say — and I'd 
 like to pay him out for it. That I would.' 
 
 ' Hush ! Maggie ; you mustn't say that ! 
 remonstrated Iris. ' Of course, you know I 
 am not happy, but you have been in your 
 master's pay for several years, and you 
 mustn't bite the hand that feeds you.' 
 
 ' I'd never have stayed if it hadn't been 
 for you, mistress — nor if he had treated 
 you properly neither. And perhaps, after 
 all, I've been wrong to stay,' said Maggie, 
 with a sob in her throat. 
 
 * Wrong to stay!' repeated Iris in sur- 
 prise. ' Why, Maggie ! what should I 
 have done without you .^ ' 
 
 ' Ah ! but you don't know,' cried the 
 servant. 
 
 ' I know that you've been the best girl 
 to me that ever lived,' said Iris, gently. 
 ' That you have stood my friend through 
 everything — often my protector — and that 
 I have found my best comfort in you.' 
 
 The only answer Maggie made to this 
 speech was conveyed by throwing herself
 
 52 Driven to Bay. 
 
 on her knees at her mistress's feet, and 
 burying- her disorganised head in her lap. 
 
 ' Don't speak to me Hke that,' she 
 gasped through her tears. ' I ain't deserv- 
 ing of it ; and if you knew what a bad girl 
 I am, you'd turn me out of your house 
 to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I don't think I should, Maggie. If I 
 believed you to be bad (which I don't) I 
 should try to return your kindness to me 
 by pointing out a better mode of life to 
 you. But don't talk nonsense. I have 
 no fault to find with you — so you need 
 find none with yourself.' 
 
 ■'You're an angel, that's what you are,' 
 said Maggie, standing up and drying her 
 eyes, 'and I'm a brute, and so is he. 
 But what vexes you now, my pretty '^. ' 
 
 This question brought poor Iris back 
 to a remembrance of her own troubles. 
 
 ' Oh ! I can't tell you, Maggie — at least 
 not yet — for I am not even sure if I have 
 any right to feel vexed. But my future 
 looks very dark to me — very dark indeed,
 
 Iris Harland. 53 
 
 and I cannot help fretting to think what 
 may be in store.' 
 
 ' And lies at the bottom of it, of course/ 
 observed Maggie, with an irreverent 
 motion of her thumb towards the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 Iris sighed. Was he not at the bottom 
 of all her troubles ? 
 
 ' Has that letter got anything to do 
 with the matter, mistress ? ' asked Maggie, 
 looking at the paper in her hand. 
 
 ' Yes ; but don't ask me any more 
 questions about it, Maggie. If Mr Har- 
 land forces me to act, I promise you shall 
 know all.' 
 
 ' You promise that, mistress, on your 
 w^ord of honour ? ' 
 
 ' I do promise, dear Maggie,' replied 
 Iris, bending forward to kiss the earnest 
 face raised to hers. But Maggie started 
 as if she had been shot. 
 
 ' No ! no ! you sha'n't kiss me ! I ain't 
 fit for you to touch. But let me kiss 
 your hand, dear. There ! that can't hurt
 
 54 
 
 Driven to Bay. 
 
 you — and I wouldn't hurt you (God 
 knows), not to save my own life.' And 
 with a smothered sob, and an application 
 of her grimy apron to her eyes, Maggie 
 Greet took her way down to the lower 
 regions again.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LES NOUVEAUX RICHES. 
 
 F course the Vansittarts occupied 
 the biggest and most expensive 
 house they had been able to 
 procure on taking up their residence In 
 London. They were noziveaux riches of 
 the very first water. John Vanslttart, the 
 head of the family, was the son of a 
 respectable Berkshire farmer, who had 
 given him a thousand pounds as a start In 
 life, with which the young man had gone 
 out to New Zealand, and invested in a 
 sheep run, which had resulted in his 
 becoming a millionaire. Yet no extra- 
 ordinary good luck had contributed to his
 
 56 Driven to Bay. 
 
 success. He had simply been frugal and 
 painstaking, and kept his eyes open, and 
 married a woman who helped instead of 
 hindered him. And now, at sixty years of 
 age, he was celebrated for being one of the 
 largest sheepowners in New Zealand. He 
 had not married early, and his only child, 
 a daughter called Grace, was just twenty 
 years old. She had been in England 
 much longer than her parents. They had 
 sent her home to a fashionable boarding- 
 school at twelve years of age, and had not 
 found time to join her until a year before 
 this story opens. They had returned to 
 England with an idea of remaining there, 
 but they had soon changed their minds. 
 Their bush life had unfitted them for 
 society. Satins and laces and shining 
 broadcloth sat uneasily upon them, and 
 both Mr and Mrs Vansittart longed for 
 the moment when they should settle down 
 in their New Zealand home again. Not 
 that they would admit, even to themselves, 
 that the whirl and bustle, the pomp and
 
 Les Nouveaux Riches, 57 
 
 formality, of a London life were too much 
 for them. On the contrary, they blamed 
 the great Metropolis for being slow and 
 stupid, and would not allow that anything 
 it produced could equal the same article in 
 New Zealand. They were both very fat. 
 and simple, and goodnatured — extrava- 
 gantly proud of their fashionable daughter 
 Grace, who did not acquiesce in the opinions 
 of her parents — and ready to spend their 
 money like water, because they really did 
 not know what else to do with it. They 
 lived in a splendid mansion overlooking 
 the park, which had been furnished from 
 basement to attic, at the sweet will of the 
 upholsterer, and consequently bore the 
 impress of wealth upon every part of it. 
 The hall was carpeted with bear and tiger 
 skins, and hung with armour and stuffed 
 deers' heads, interspersed with blue and 
 white Nankin China, and beaten brass 
 from Benares. The drawing-room was 
 furnished in the style of Louis Quatorze, 
 and opened into a vast conservatory, rich
 
 58 Driven to Bay. 
 
 with tropical plants. In the dining-room, 
 the walls of which were hung with stamped 
 leather, and lighted by silver sconces, were 
 to be found as many portraits of gallant 
 lords and lovely ladies, figuring in the 
 costumes of three and four hundred years 
 before, as if John Vansittart had come of a 
 long line of noble ancestors, instead of 
 being unable to trace his pedigree beyond 
 the loins of the Berkshire farmer, whose 
 father had been an unknown quantity. 
 The whole house reeked of money, but, 
 strange to say, it did not oppress one as 
 such things usually do. The fact is, the 
 owners of these extravagancies did not 
 value them one whit because they had cost 
 money. They were ready to leave them 
 all behind to-morrow — indeed, they were 
 going to do so ; and John Vansittart had 
 remarked more than once to his wife, that 
 it was a pity they hadn't some good friend 
 to whom they could make over the whole 
 lot as a present, instead of letting them go 
 for nothing at auction. But that was just
 
 Les Nouvemix Riches. 59 
 
 their trouble. They had no friends — 
 hardly any acquaintances. Grace had 
 come home to them, fresh from her school, 
 and good, honest Mrs Vansittart was not 
 the sort of woman to push her way into 
 society, even with the aid of her enormous 
 wealth. She was too shy and retiring to 
 do so. That was the reason they had 
 become intimate with Godfrey Harland. 
 He had met Mr Vansittart first in the city, 
 and, passing himself off as a bachelor, had 
 been taken home to the big house in the 
 park by that gentleman, and introduced to 
 his family. They had all received him 
 with open arms. He was good-looking, 
 fashionable, and very wide-awake. He 
 put the father up to all sorts of dodges. 
 He flattered the mother, and helped her 
 out of all her difficulties, and he (almost) 
 made love to the daughter. At least he 
 showed her a great deal of attention, and 
 Grace Vansittart repaid it in kind. It was 
 natural she should. He was about the 
 only ' swell ' (as she would have expressed
 
 6o Driven to Bay. 
 
 it) who came to their house, and her 
 fashionable training had taught her to 
 discriminate, and to Hke ' swells.' She 
 hated the idea of settling in New Zealand, 
 although she could not of course go against 
 her parents' wishes, and would very much 
 have preferred marrying, and remaining in 
 England. Had he been single, Harland 
 would have found it an easy game to play. 
 He might even have been left in possession 
 of the palatial house and furniture. But 
 the house would not have suited his 
 purpose, as we know. He was not actually 
 planning to commit bigamy — he was not 
 even sure if he wished it — but he was 
 sorely in need of the father's money, and 
 at anyrate he felt he must make a friend of 
 the daughter. But his friendship was con- 
 ducted on such sentimental terms it mi^ht 
 easily have been mistaken for courtship. 
 Mr and Mrs Vansittart so mistook it. 
 They were very fond and proud of their 
 one ewe lamb, and watched her carefully ; 
 and they had often remarked to each other
 
 Les Noziveaitx Riches. 6 1 
 
 that If they didn't mind it would come to 
 a match between their Grace and Mr 
 Harland. 
 
 ' And he ain't got much money, I don't 
 think ! You must mind that, father,' the 
 old lady would say. 
 
 ' Lor' ! mother, and if he hasn't — where's 
 the harm?' Mr Vansittart replied. 
 ' Haven't we got enough for all ? Not 
 but what Harland' (I am afraid he said 
 'Arland) ' dresses very particular, and 
 always looks the gentleman. However, I 
 sha'n't throw my gal away — you may make 
 your mind easy about that ; but if the 
 young feller likes to come out to New 
 Zealand with us, and shows me as he can 
 work, and has no nonsense about him, and 
 our Grace sets her heart upon him — why, 
 all I shall say is, please yourself, my dear, 
 and you'll please me.' 
 
 And so it was that John Vansittart came 
 to offer the position of land agent to God- 
 frey Harland. 
 
 ' Do you know anything of Mr Har-
 
 62 Driven to Bay. 
 
 land's family or relations, John ? ' said his 
 wife, when he told her what he had done. 
 
 * Quite as much as I want to, my dear. 
 I met the young man at Aintree, walking 
 about with Lord Sevenoaks and Colonel 
 Fusee — good enough credentials, I should 
 think, for anyone — and he gave me his 
 opinion of the horses that were running. 
 I should have lost all round if it hadn't 
 been for him. But he's very wide awake — 
 got his eyes well open — just the very sort 
 of man we want out there. Dash his 
 family ! What do we care about family ? 
 We ain't got none ourselves. And anyone 
 can see he's a gentleman born — and he's 
 got no encumbrances, and if he's willing to 
 come with us, why, I'm the man to take 
 him, that's all.' 
 
 * And I'm sure he'll never repent his 
 decision,' said Mrs Vansittart, plaintively ; 
 * for no one who once saw our Wellington 
 or Canterbury could ever wish to set his 
 foot in this dull and dirty London again.' 
 
 When Godfrey Harland reached the
 
 Les Nouveaux Riches. 63 
 
 Vanslttart's residence that evening, he 
 was at once ushered into the Hbrary, where 
 the master of the house was evidently 
 awaiting him. 
 
 * I told 'em to show you in here first, 
 Mr Harland,' he commenced, cordially 
 shaking hands, * as I thought you and 
 me miorht settle this little matter before 
 joining the ladies. Of course, you've 
 received my letter.' 
 
 ' About an hour ago,' replied Godfrey. 
 ' I came on as soon as ever I could.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I thought that would fetch you,' 
 chuckled the old man. ' You unmarried 
 men are lucky dogs, to have no one to say, 
 " With your leave," or "■ By your leave " to 
 as you go in or out.' 
 
 * We don't always think so, sir.' 
 
 ^ No, you don't know when you're well 
 off. Well, if you take my advice, you'll 
 remain as you are — for some time to come, 
 at least. But this ain't business ! What 
 do you say to my proposal, Mr Har- 
 land?'
 
 64 Driven to Bay, 
 
 ' That if I can fulfil the duties, the posi- 
 tion will suit me down to the ground.' 
 
 ' Oh ! the duties is easy enough. I shall 
 want you to be under myself, and do all 
 the palavering and writing that I can't 
 manage. You see, Mr Harland, I'm a 
 rich man, but I'm a plain man, and I 
 haven't had much education, so that when 
 I want to invest money, or transact a 
 heavy sale, figures and such things are a 
 trouble to me. I call the place " a land 
 agent's," because I don't know a better 
 name for it. But, in reality, it's a friend 
 and help that I want, and if you're willing 
 to undertake the situation, why, it's yours.' 
 
 * I accept it with gratitude,' replied Har- 
 land. ' As I have told you honestly, I 
 have been living very much from hand to 
 mouth lately, on account of serious losses 
 through the defalcations of a friend, and 
 was on the look-out for active employment. 
 Your offer suits me exactly. I have long 
 wished to visit New Zealand, and am 
 charmed at the prospect of doing so in such
 
 Les NoMveaux Riches, 65 
 
 company. I thank you very much for 
 thinkinor of me.' 
 
 ' That's settled then, sir ; but we haven't 
 mentioned money yet. I will pay your 
 passage out, and give you six hundred 
 pounds for the first year. What I shall do 
 afterwards, we'll talk of afterwards. Will 
 that satisfy you for the present ? ' 
 
 * Perfectly,' said Harland, quietly. The 
 game was in his own hands now, and he 
 was quivering with delight, but he did not 
 want the old man to see it. 
 
 ' And perhaps you'd like a litde advance 
 for your outfit,' continued Vansittart. 
 
 * If it's perfectly convenient,' stammered 
 Harland. 
 
 * Of course, it's convenient,' replied the 
 other, as he wrote a cheque for fifty 
 pounds, and pushed it across the table to 
 him. ' I expected as you'd want it. And 
 now, remember this, my boy. Though 1 
 like you well enough, I've given you the 
 appointment as much for the sake of my 
 wife and daughter as myself. For they've 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 66 Driven to Bay, 
 
 both taken a fancy to you, and want you 
 to go out with us, and so any little atten- 
 tion you can pay them on the voyage 
 — I being but a poor sailor — will be 
 very thankfully received, and valued ac- 
 cordingly.' 
 
 * It will be my greatest pleasure to look 
 after Mrs and Miss Vansittart on board 
 the Pandora, and supply your place as far 
 as possible,' replied Harland, gracefully. 
 
 * Very good,' said his host. ' We've 
 settled the matter now, and can join the 
 ladies.' 
 
 So Godfrey Harland, looking quite a 
 * swell ' in his well-cut evening suit, entered 
 the drawing-room a minute afterwards, 
 with fifty pounds in his pocket, and some- 
 thing very much like carte blanche to make 
 love to the heiress of the Vansittarts. The 
 mother received him with unfashionable 
 cordiality, shaking his hand vehemently in 
 token of the new bond between them, 
 whilst the daughter beamed welcome upon 
 him with her eyes, from the depths of a
 
 Les Nouveaux Riches. 67 
 
 large arm-chair, half shrouded from ob- 
 servation by a gigantic palm which rose 
 six feet high from an Etruscan vase of 
 costly majolica. 
 
 Grace Vansittart, with the light weight 
 of twenty summers on her brow, was an 
 attractive young woman, although her 
 lowly origin was plainly traceable in the 
 style of her beauty. A prolonged and 
 fashionable training had done much to 
 make a lady of her, and her milliners con- 
 tributed largely to the general effect. But 
 nothing could do away with the deep 
 colourinof, the large hands and feet, and 
 the somewhat coarse voice that remained 
 to her as the heritage of her forefathers. 
 She had rich brown hair and eyes, a 
 straight thick nose, a rather full-lipped 
 mouth, and a figure which, though very 
 tempting under the rounded lines of girl- 
 hood, would probably be too much of a 
 good thing ten years later. She was 
 attired in an expensive dress of some 
 mauve material, much covered with laces
 
 68 Driven to Bay. 
 
 and drapery, and her ears, arms, neck, and 
 fingers glittered with gold and jewellery. 
 She threw a long look at Godfrey from 
 her full brown eyes, as he approached her 
 chair, which emboldened him to take a 
 seat beside her. 
 
 * So you are really going out with us to 
 Tabbakooloo,' she said, with a smile. 
 
 * Yes. Are you sorry ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know. You may be useful on 
 the voyage out. I shall want a great deal 
 of waiting on, I warn you.' 
 
 * You cannot possibly want more than 
 I shall be proud to render you,' replied 
 Godfrey. 
 
 ' That is really a very nice speech. You 
 make me quite eager to start, and put your 
 gallantry to the test.' 
 
 ' Well, it will not be long now. I think 
 Mr Vansittart told me the Pandora sails 
 on the 24th.' 
 
 ' Three months at sea ! ' exclaim.ed Grace, 
 shrugging her shoulders. * What an awful 
 prospect. I hope you will think of some-
 
 Les Noitveattx Riches. 69 
 
 thing very nice, Mr Harland, to make the 
 time pass quickly.' 
 
 ' I will do my best. Are you fond of 
 reading or playing games ? Are you a 
 chess player ? And if not, shall I teach 
 you ? I don't know a better plan to make 
 time fly.' 
 
 ' I really have no choice. I shall leave 
 that to you. But I hope we are going 
 to be great friends. Do you think we 
 shall ? '^ 
 
 ' I am sttre of it,' replied Godfrey fer- 
 vently. 
 
 ' Harland,' interrupted Mr Vansittart at 
 this juncture, ' have you any engagement 
 for this evenine ?' 
 
 ' None, sir. I am completely at your 
 service.' 
 
 ' Well, then, you had better stay here 
 to-night, and go with me to the shipping 
 office the first thing to-morrow morning 
 to secure your berth. Time's getting on, 
 you know, and if we delay it, we may not 
 able to get you a comfortable one.'
 
 JO Driven to Bay. 
 
 This proposal did not at all meet with 
 Harland's views. He had no wish that a 
 servant should be despatched from Mr 
 Vansittart's house to his own, to bring" 
 back his morning clothes, and all the 
 information Maggie might choose to give 
 him. And so he readily forged a lie to 
 excuse himself 
 
 ' I should like it above all things, sir/ 
 he stammered, * but if you will allow me 
 to join you at the office to-morrow morn- 
 ing, I will be there at any hour you name. 
 The fact is, I 77tiist sit up to-night writing. 
 This sudden stroke of fortune has brought 
 a few cares with it. There is a little 
 property of mine in the north that I must 
 put at once into other hands, and my 
 yacht — ' 
 
 ' Oh, you keep a yacht then ! ' exclaimed 
 Vansittart, rather surprised at the owner 
 of such an expensive luxury jumping so 
 readily at the offer he had made him. 
 
 * I did keep one before I experienced 
 the heavy losses of which I have told you,"
 
 Les Nouveaiix Riches, 7 1 
 
 resumed Godfrey, ' and though she is let 
 at present to a friend, I must make ar- 
 rangements for her going to the hammer 
 when his lease is up.' 
 
 In his anxiety to prevent any unlucky 
 contretemps revealing the true state of his 
 domestic affairs, Godfrey Harland would 
 have given himself a stable full of horses, 
 and an opera box at Her Majesty's, and 
 a few dozen carriages to dispose of, in 
 another minute, if his host, recognising 
 the reasons he had already given as suffi- 
 cient, had not cheerfully consented to his 
 proposal to meet him at the offices of 
 Messrs Stern & Stales on the morrow. 
 And so, not quite knowing whether to be 
 confounded or elated by his sudden run of 
 luck, Harland bade his benefactors good- 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BREAKERS AHEAD. 
 
 ODFREY HARLAND did not 
 go home that night. He was 
 contemplating the commission 
 of a crime, and he felt litde remorse upon 
 the subject, but he dreaded the questioning 
 of his wife as to where he had been and 
 what he had been doing. Iris was a timid 
 and long-suffering woman, but she had an 
 unpleasant habit of looking one straight in 
 the eyes whilst she waited for an answer, 
 Avhich made it most difficult to tell her a 
 good lie, and stick to it. So the less he
 
 Breakers Ahead. y^ 
 
 saw of her whilst he remained in England, 
 he thought, the better, and he had already 
 concocted an excuse for pretending to go 
 into the country. He put up for the 
 nieht at one of his low haunts, and 
 despatched a dirty messenger for his 
 clothes in the morning. As (punctual to 
 his appointment) he walked up to the 
 shipping office to meet his employer, he 
 saw, already standing before it the hand- 
 some barouche with its thoroughbred bay 
 steppers, that seemed like an earnest of 
 his own future success. As he entered 
 the office, which was crowded with clerks, 
 messengers, seamen, and passengers, Mr 
 Vansittart came forward and shook him 
 warmly by the hand, 
 
 * Punctual to a minute,' he said, smiling ; 
 ' that's the proper way to do business. I 
 see that you and me will get on first-rate 
 together.' 
 
 The welcome raised Harland's spirits, 
 and drove away sundry fears and qualms 
 that had been lurking in his heart. Surely
 
 74 Di'iven to Bay. 
 
 the grim Fates were on his side at last. 
 His luck had turned, and the wheels of 
 life, greased by prosperity, would revolve 
 smoothly for the future. He answered 
 his friend's greeting with a light laugh, 
 and a debonnair air, that made him appear 
 more charming than ever. 
 
 Mr Vansittart went to business at once, 
 and in a few minutes a first-class passenger 
 ticket for the Pandora was made out, 
 signed, paid for, and safely deposited in 
 Mr Harland's pocket-book. He had played 
 and won. London and its dark associa- 
 tions seemed to be already fading from his 
 view, and New Zealand and a free life, 
 unburdened by cares or encumbrances, 
 was spreading out before him. 
 : ' And now, my boy ! Can I set you 
 down anywhere?' asked Mr Vansittart. 
 ^ I am bound to call at my bankers, but 
 I will drive you to your destination first if 
 you desire it.' 
 
 Harland would greatly have liked to 
 show himself by the side of the millionaire
 
 Breakers Ahead. 75 
 
 in his splendid equipage, but he knew it 
 would be safer not to do so, and so he 
 declined the offer. He had his private 
 reasons for wishing to keep quiet until he 
 was safely out of England. If some of his 
 friends got wind of his being hand and 
 glove with a wealthy man, it might be all 
 up with his dream of enfranchisement. So 
 he professed to have business in another 
 direction. 
 
 ' Thanks, Mr Vansittart, but I am run- 
 ning down to Portsmouth to-day about that 
 little yacht of mine, and have promised to 
 wait here for a friend. Don't let me 
 detain you. When would you wish to see 
 me again } ' 
 
 ' When will you be back in town } ' 
 
 ' To-morrow, at latest.' 
 
 * Come up and dine with us then, at 
 seven, and we will discuss the arrangements 
 for the voyage — we have not too much 
 time. In ten days more we shall be 
 upon the sea.' 
 
 VThank God! ' ejaculated Harland, as the
 
 76 Driven to Bay, 
 
 carriage drove away. He waited about 
 for a minute or two, to make sure Mr 
 Vansittart would not return, and then pre- 
 pared to slink off in an opposite direction. 
 But as he passed through the swinging 
 door of the office into the street, he came 
 face to face with a man, who recognised 
 him without ceremony. 
 
 * Hallo ! Cain,' he exclaimed loudly. 
 * Who the d — 1 would have expected to 
 see you here ? I thought you were in 
 America.' 
 
 The speaker was a fine stalwart young 
 fellow, but evidently of a much lower stand- 
 ing than Godfrey Harland. The latter was 
 taken completely by surprise, but had the 
 presence of mind to draw himself up stiffly, 
 and say, — 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir. I have not the 
 pleasure of knowing you,' and with that 
 he essayed to pass out. But the new- 
 comer was not to be put off so easily. 
 
 ' Not know ine ! ' he repeated. ' Where 
 are your eyes. I should have known you
 
 Breakers Ahead. "jy 
 
 five miles off. My name Is William Farrell 
 Have you forgotten old Starling, and the 
 row there was in the office when you left ? ' 
 
 ' I repeat that I have not the honour of 
 your acquaintance,' rejoined Harland, red- 
 dening, however, to the brows. ' Nor do I 
 know to what you refer. It is a case of 
 mistaken identity, sir, and as I am in a 
 hurry, perhaps you will kindly let me 
 pass on.' 
 
 But Will Farrell planted himself right 
 in the doorway. 
 
 'No! I'll be d— d If I will— not until 
 you have told me the truth. If you have 
 forgotten me, I remember j)/^^^ well enough, 
 ^ Mr Horace Cain! 
 
 ' For God's sake, hold your tongue, 
 man,' cried Godfrey, thrown off his guard ; 
 ' or come with me where we can talk in 
 privacy.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I thought that would freshen your 
 memory,' said the other, with a harsh 
 laugh. 
 
 Harland did not know at first what to
 
 78 Driven to Bay. 
 
 do. He had recognised this man at once 
 as a former companion at the desk, and 
 his turning up at this inopportune moment 
 might prove the most unlucky move in 
 the world. At all risks he must be con- 
 ciliated, and kept quiet. 
 
 But Harland felt less ready with a lie 
 than usual. He, who was seldom without 
 one at the tip of his tongue, was cowed and 
 nervous by Farrell's allusion to the past, 
 and could hardly decide what to do, or 
 say. But in another moment his natural 
 aptitude for deceit had returned to him. 
 
 * Of course, I remember you now, Far- 
 rell, though I must confess that at first your 
 face did not seem familiar to me. It is 
 some years since we met, and you have 
 changed, as doubtless /have, too.' 
 
 ' It is to be hoped so,' interrupted Far- 
 rell, with an unpleasant sneer. 
 
 ' But I am always glad to meet an old 
 acquaintance,' continued Godfrey, ignoring 
 the interruption. ' I shall be pleased to 
 have a talk with you over old times
 
 Breakers Ahead. 79 
 
 There is a little place near here where they 
 know me. Will you walk round and have 
 something to drink ? ' 
 
 But the bait did not seem to take. 
 
 ' I don't drink so early in the morning,* 
 replied Farrell ; ' besides, I have business 
 here.' 
 
 ' What is your business ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I don't know that it concerns 
 you, but I have nothing to conceal. I am 
 going out to New Zealand in ih.^ Pandora, 
 on the 24th.' 
 
 ' The devil, you are ! ' cried Godfrey. 
 ' Why, we shall be fellow-passengers.' 
 
 ' How's that ? Do you sail in her too ? 
 Is the country getting too hot for you 
 again ? ' asked Farrell. 
 
 ' Not at all,' replied Harland, with as- 
 sumed dignity. ' I have come into some 
 money, and am travelling with friends for 
 my own pleasure.' 
 
 'Indeed! Swells, I suppose. What 
 class do you go ? ' 
 
 ' First, of course.'
 
 So Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' Well, I go second, of course, as I 
 pay for myself, so we shall not see much 
 of each other, thank goodness ! on the 
 voyage.' 
 
 ' That will not be my fault,' said God- 
 frey, blandly, still nervously bent on his 
 efforts at conciliation. 
 
 * But it will be mine if we do^, returned 
 Farrell, fiercely. ' Look you here, Horace 
 Cain, I can see through your soft words 
 plain enough. You're afraid of me, as 
 you've got good cause to be, and it would 
 
 ,have been all the better for you if you'd 
 told the truth when you first met me, and 
 not tried to sneak out of it by a lie.' 
 
 ' Do you threaten me, fellow ? ' ex- 
 claimed Harland, forgetting his prudence 
 in his anger. ' I'll soon teach you the 
 difference between us.' 
 
 ' I don't need any teaching to see the 
 difference between an honest man and a 
 forger,' retorted Farrell. 
 
 * How da7'e you?' cried Godfrey, white 
 with rage.
 
 Breakers Ahead. 8i 
 
 ' Won't I dare ? ' replied Farrell, with 
 an insolent laugh. ' Just you cross my 
 path, Mr Mr '- 
 
 ' Godfrey Harland, if you please,' inter- 
 posed the other, haughtily. 
 
 * Oh ! that's the new name, is it ? ' con- 
 tinued Farrell. * A very pretty one too. 
 Just like a novel. Well, it was about time 
 you dropped the other, Horace Cain! 
 
 ' Oh, cease this cursed nonsense,' cried 
 Harland. ' I don't want to quarrel with 
 you. Why should you quarrel with me ? 
 If any suspicion fell upon you for acts 
 for which I was responsible, it wasn't my 
 fault. And it's all past and over now. 
 Come, man, don't be sulky. Let us go 
 and drown the remembrance of it in a B, 
 and S.' 
 
 But Will Farrell hung backwards. 
 
 ' Perhaps you're right,' he said. ' It's 
 folly to quarrel over it at this time of the 
 day, but I can't drink at your expense all 
 the same. The business you speak of so 
 lightly spoiled my life and made me reck- 
 
 VOL. I. • F
 
 82 Driven to Bay, 
 
 less. That mayn't seem much to you, but 
 it's everything to me. And I hope, if you 
 come across me on the voyage, that you 
 won't speak to me, Mr — Mr HarlandJ 
 
 ' We are not very Hkely to come across 
 one another,' repHed Godfrey grandly. ' I 
 don't think the second-class passengers are 
 allowed beyond the quarter-deck. And 
 therefore you need not disquiet yourself on 
 that score.' 
 
 * All the better for me,' quoth Farrell, 
 surlily, as he pushed past him to enter 
 the shipping office. 
 
 Godfrey Harland, as he strolled away 
 and thought over the interview, felt very 
 uncomfortable about it. It was an un- 
 lucky star that had placed Will Farrell, of 
 all men in the world, on board the Pandora, 
 with himself. If he had only had the good 
 fortune to sail before or after him, he 
 need never have known he was in the 
 same country. He was almost tempted to 
 get up some illness on the part of himself 
 or a near relation as an excuse to change
 
 Breakers Ahead. 83 
 
 his ticket and follow the Vanslttarts by 
 another vessel. But England was becom- 
 ing dangerous ground for him. The delay 
 of a fortnight might render him unable to 
 leave it at all. He stood between two 
 fires. He saw his creditors pressing on 
 him on one side, and Will Farrell de- 
 nouncing his past character on the other, 
 and he decided that Farrell was the least 
 dangerous enemy of the two. He had not 
 the same motive for betraying him. He 
 would gain nothing himself by raking up 
 the old scandal, and to hold his tongue 
 might prove a benefit to him. Harland 
 would occupy a good position in the new 
 country, and be able to help Farrell on. 
 The man would see that when he sat 
 down to reason calmly. And so he deter- 
 mined to think as little of the unpleasant 
 contretemps as he might. Yet it haunted 
 him throughout the day, and made his 
 future look far less bright than it had done. 
 He was bound to encounter his wife, too, 
 that evening, and he wished the ordeal
 
 84 Driven to Bay, 
 
 was over. He had an excellent story to 
 tell her, but it required a large amount of 
 Dutch courage to go through with it. So 
 that Godfrey Harland had drank a great 
 deal more than was good for him when he 
 stumbled up the steps of his own house 
 that evening.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A WOLF IN sheep's CLOTHING. 
 
 RIS was looking forward to her 
 husband's return with an 
 amount of determination that 
 would have astonished any one who had 
 seen her only in her moments of nervous 
 prostration, when his insults and cruelty 
 had opened her eyes to the folly of which 
 she had been guilty in marrying him, at 
 the same time that she felt her utter 
 impotence to cope with the fate she had 
 brought on herself. But there are points 
 beyond which even the weakest will turn 
 to defend themselves, and such an era
 
 86 Driven to Bay. 
 
 had been reached in Iris Harland's Hfe 
 now. She had carefully thought over 
 the news which Mr Vansittart's letter to 
 her husband had revealed to her, and her 
 mind seemed suddenly to have grasped 
 the whole meaning of Godfrey's late 
 behaviour. He intended to desert her. 
 He had made these new friends, who 
 evidently believed him to be unmarried, 
 and he had concealed all his liabilities — 
 domestic and otherwise — from them, and 
 would in all probability accompany them 
 to this new world, and begin life over 
 again, leaving her to perish or to main- 
 tain herself as best she could, so long 
 as he was quit of her. He had often 
 threatened so to leave her, but she had 
 never quite believed he would have the 
 cruelty to carry his threats into execution. 
 But now she did. Certain late outrages 
 in his treatment of her had made her 
 believe him capable of anything, even of 
 getting her out of his way, if she stood 
 in it. Mr Vansittart's letter said that
 
 A Wolf in Sheep s C lot king. 87 
 
 the Panaora sailed on the 24th. That 
 was only ten days off. Surely, If Godfrey 
 accepted the offer made to him, he would 
 give her some warning of his intentions. 
 At all events, she would wait and watch. 
 If he carried his cruel threats into effect, 
 she had made up her mind what to do. 
 But the means. How was she to obtain 
 the means to baffle her husband's scheme 
 to rid himself of her. The poor child 
 sat and thought with her head in her 
 hands all through the livelong day, without 
 having come to any solution of the riddle, 
 whilst Maggie hovered round her, dis- 
 solved In tears, entreating her to have a 
 cup of tea, or to go to bed, or to tell 
 her what was on her mind. At last, as 
 the evening drew near, Iris heard her 
 husband's latch-key fumbling uncertainly 
 in the keyhole, and knew that he had 
 returned. Maggie heard the sound, too, 
 and recognised the reason. ' He's bin at It 
 agen,' she remarked, with a contemptuous 
 movement of her mouth, as she went to
 
 88 Didven to Bay. 
 
 open the door. Godfrey stumbled past 
 her, with an oath, into the Httle sitting- 
 room, where his wife was waiting to 
 receive him. He, too, was uncertain 
 what to say to her. He had resolved 
 to be led by circumstances. But he was 
 sure of one thing. He must get his way 
 by fair means, rather than by foul. His 
 object just now was conciliation all round, 
 until he had got clear out of England. 
 So the husband and wife met, at heart 
 belligerents, but outwardly calm, in order 
 to effect their several purposes. 
 
 ' Well, Childie ! ' exclaimed Godfrey 
 thickly, using the soubriquet by which 
 he had nicknamed Iris in their courting 
 days, but which he had forgotten for 
 years past, ' I have come back, you see, 
 safe and sound, though I have been a 
 deuce of a time away. However, I 
 couldn't help it. Business detained me. 
 Have you been very dull alone ?' 
 
 * Yes ; it has been rather dull, with 
 no one but Maggie to speak to. But
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. 89 
 
 you know I am used to that. Now you 
 have come, Godfrey, I hope you are 
 going to stay.' 
 
 ' Well, my dear, to tell you the truth, 
 I'm not. The fact is, Childie, we're in 
 a mess with regard to money matters, 
 and it's quite necessary I should lie 
 perdu for a week or two. I . met an 
 old chum of mine to-day in the city, 
 the skipper of a Harfleur packet, and 
 he's promised to smuggle me out of 
 England to-morrow morning, and I can 
 stay with some friends of his abroad until 
 Glendinning sets matters straight for me.' 
 
 ' But how can Mr Glendinning set 
 matters straight for you, Godfrey, with- 
 out paying your debts ? and where is 
 the money to come from ? ' demanded 
 Iris, with that uncomfortable penetrating 
 glance of hers. 
 
 He turned his eyes away. They never 
 had been able to stand hers. 
 
 ' Oh ! he'll raise some money for me, 
 and he'll pacify the rest of the creditors
 
 90 Driven to Bay. 
 
 with promises. Glendinning's a first-rate 
 fellow at that sort of thing. But he says 
 it is quite necessary I should be out of 
 England, until the business is completely 
 settled.' 
 
 * I see,' said his wife, * and you must 
 go to-night and remain away. For how 
 long is it ? Ten days ? ' 
 
 ' I said a fortnight, and it may be three 
 weeks,' replied Godfrey. 'It all depends 
 upon how Glendinning can manage things 
 for me. But one thing is certain — / 
 must go! 
 
 * And how are we to live during your 
 absence?' asked Iris quietly. 
 
 ' Live I Why, as you generally do, I 
 suppose — on credit.' 
 
 ' That is quite impossible, Godfrey. I 
 do not object to your going, but you must 
 leave me some money to keep the wolf 
 from the door. The tradesmen will not 
 trust us with a single article. We have 
 even to pay for the milk as we take it in.' 
 
 ' That's awkward,' said Godfrey. ' Well,
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, 91 
 
 give me some brandy and water, and I'll 
 think it over.' 
 
 A sudden idea flashed into the girl's 
 mind. She mnst know the truth before 
 he left her that night, or she might never 
 know it at all. And so, instead of re- 
 straining his over-indulgence as she was 
 usually called upon to do, she poured the 
 tumbler half full of brandy before she 
 added the water, and placed it by her 
 husband's side. The end, in her sight, 
 justified the means. She was resolved 
 to know the worst, and there seemed no 
 other way of forcing the knowledge from 
 him. The strong potion, added to what 
 he had already taken, soon had its effect, 
 but in a different manner from what Iris 
 had intended. 
 
 Godfrey Harland's character was of the 
 lowest type. He was obstinate, vicious, 
 and cruel. But he was also hot blooded, 
 and his hot nature not being under any sort 
 of control, made him a very ardent lover 
 when humoured, and equally dangerous
 
 92 D^dven to Bay. 
 
 when opposed. To thwart him was to 
 rouse the temper of a fiend. To give in to 
 him was to deal with a brute. He was 
 fierce and unreasonable in his love — jealous 
 and revengeful in his hate — and selfish and 
 cunning in every phase of life. It was 
 hard to say in which mood his wife had 
 learned to dislike and fear him most, but 
 it was as much as her life was worth to 
 oppose him in either. Just now, as she 
 saw the fumes of the brandy had recalled 
 some of his softer feelings for her, she 
 resolved, if possible, to turn the fact to her 
 own advantage. 
 
 '.That's good,' he said, as he drained the 
 tumbler. ' By Jove ! Childie ! you're look- 
 ing very pretty to-night. Come here and 
 sit on my knee.' 
 
 Iris shuddered at the request, but she 
 complied with it. Nay, more, this wolf 
 in sheep's clothing smiled upon him as 
 she twined her fingers softly in the dark 
 curls of her husband's hair. 
 
 ' Won't you give me some money, God-
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing. 93 
 
 frey ? ' she murmured. ' You know that 
 I mtcsl have it. Just leave me enough to 
 go on with for a month, and I'll be 
 satisfied.' 
 
 * Well ! how much do you want, you 
 jade?' 
 
 * Twenty pounds ! ' said Iris boldly. 
 
 * Twenty fiddlesticks ! Why, I haven't 
 got twenty pence about me.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, you have ! ' she said, coax- 
 ingly. ' Just look, and you'll find it, 
 Godfrey. You couldn't go abroad without 
 some ready money, you know.' 
 
 He fumbled about in his pockets then, 
 and brought out the pile of notes and gold 
 which had been given him in exchange for 
 Mr Vansittart's cheque. Iris saw them, and 
 calculated their amount almost to a pound, 
 but she was too discreet to say so. God- 
 frey separated a single bank-note from 
 the rest, and held it up to her, saying, — 
 
 * Now, what am I do have instead of 
 it?' 
 
 * What do you want, Godfrey ? '
 
 94 Dj^ven to Bay. 
 
 * Twenty kisses at the very least,' he 
 repHed, devouring her beauty with his 
 amorous eyes. ' Now, put your pretty 
 arms round my neck, Childie, and give me 
 the whole lot, or you sha'n't have a sixpence.' 
 
 How the woman loathed her task. How 
 she longed to tell this man, who had once 
 seemed as a god in her eyes, that she 
 hated and despised him for his cruelty and 
 infidelity to her, and that she refused to 
 degrade herself further at his command. 
 But the thought of her revenge upheld 
 her. ' Revenge is sweet,' says Byron, 
 ' especially to women.' The prospect of 
 it was sweet to Iris Harland at that 
 moment, and the thought of destitution 
 and starvation was sore, and so she stooped 
 over her half-drunken husband, and gave 
 him what he had asked for, slowly and de- 
 liberately, as if she were performing some 
 painful expiation. 
 
 ' That's a good girl ! ' exclaimed Harland, 
 as her penance was concluded. ' And now 
 you shall have the money.'
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, 95 
 
 She laid her hand eagerly upon four or 
 five of the bank-notes as he spoke — 
 crumpled them up in her hand — and thrust 
 the remainder into his breast pocket again. 
 
 ' That is a great deal too much to carry 
 about you, Godfrey,' she said, nervously. 
 * You will be robbed if you don't take 
 care. And you will want it all at Harfleur, 
 you know.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't you be afraid, my girl ! ' he 
 exclaimed, in his intoxicated, boastful 
 manner, as he buttoned his coat over it. 
 'I'll take good care I'm not robbed. I'm 
 not the sort of man to be taken in easily. 
 You ought to know that by this time.' 
 
 Then he rose, and began staggering 
 about the room. 
 
 * I must go,' he hiccupped, * because — 
 because my friend — my friend — will start 
 without me — unless I'm quick. Good-bye, 
 my dear. Don't — don't worry about me. 
 I'll be all right. Good-bye, Maggie — give 
 us a kiss.' 
 
 * A kiss, you drunken brute ! ' cried the
 
 96 Driven to Bay. 
 
 handmaid, sans cdr^nionie. ' You'd better 
 try it on — that's all. It's something very 
 different from a kiss that I'd give you, if I 
 had my way.' 
 
 ' Hush ! hush ! Maggie,' entreated Iris, 
 as Harland stumbled through the passage, 
 and out at the front door. * Let him go, 
 for heaven's sake ! We shall have no 
 peace till he is gone.' 
 
 She walked straight into the bedroom, 
 and smoothed out the notes she still held 
 crumpled in her hand. There were five 
 of them for five pounds each — five-and- 
 twenty pounds. She believed, and yet 
 she was not quite sure, if they would be 
 sufficient for her purpose. But to-morrow 
 would decide. Before that time next day, 
 she would know everything. The idea 
 made her feverishly Impatient. 
 
 ' Maggie,' she cried, * lock up the door, 
 and let us go to bed. I have so much to do 
 to-morrow. I want to get all the rest I can.^ 
 
 But though she lay dow^n, it was Impos- 
 sible to close her eyes, and the next
 
 A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing, 97 
 
 morning found Iris Harland tossing on her 
 uneasy couch, and longing for the hour to 
 arrive when her cruel doubts should be 
 satisfied one way or the other. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TWO WOMEN S HEARTS. 
 
 HE man who aspires to outwit 
 a woman, gifted with the most 
 ordinary characteristics of her 
 sex, should get up very early in the 
 morning. His brain may be larger and 
 heavier than hers, but her instincts are 
 so keen, her wits so sharp, and she knows 
 so well how to draw an inference, that 
 in a game of fifiesse she has pieced the 
 puzzle and put it together before his 
 slower comprehension has arrived at the 
 conviction that there is anything to find 
 out at all. Godfrey Harland prided him-
 
 Two Women s Hearts, 99 
 
 self the following day on the perfect 
 manner in which he had deceived his 
 wife. She believed him to be on his 
 way to Harfleur, and by the time she 
 expected to see him back again he would 
 be on his way to New Zealand and he 
 chuckled inwardly to remember that he 
 had not left a single clue to his destina- 
 tion behind. It is true that he was very 
 much annoyed at discovering the loss of 
 his money, but he did not attribute it 
 to any manoeuvering on the part of his 
 wife. He knew that he had drank too 
 freely the night before, and had played 
 at cards after he left Iris, when he scarcely 
 knew if he had lost or won. But any 
 way, he had enough coin left for his 
 purpose, and matters might have been 
 worse. And had it been all gone, he 
 would rather have applied to Mr Van- 
 sittart for a further loan, than have re- 
 turned to look for it in the house at 
 Pimlico. He had cheated them there 
 nicely, he thought, with an idiotic, trium-
 
 lOO D^nven to Bay, 
 
 phant chuckle. Iris believed him to be 
 crossing the Channel, and it would never 
 do to disturb her confidence by returning 
 home aeain. A second set of excuses 
 would not be swallowed so easily as the 
 first. And whilst the poor fool congratu- 
 lated himself thus, Iris was taking her 
 way, timidly, from the fear of meeting 
 him, but still determinately, to the offices 
 of Messrs Stern & Stales. It was a 
 novel scene in which she found herself. 
 The firm of Stern & Stales was one 
 of the largest in the metropolis. They 
 owned a large number of ships, besides 
 chartering others, so that it was not 
 an uncommon occurrence for seventy 
 vessels, all flying the house flag of the 
 company, to leave the docks for New 
 Zealand and the Colonies in the course 
 of a year. Their office was in Fen- 
 church Street. At the head of a flight 
 of broad stone steps, with iron railings, 
 was a large room in which a dozen 
 clerks sat scribbling away at their ledgers,
 
 Two Women s Hearts. loi 
 
 or poring over bills of lading, manifests, 
 and invoices. On the walls were ranged 
 half-models of the different vessels in 
 their employ, and nautical almanacks 
 and advertisements were hung in con- 
 spicuous positions. As Iris entered this 
 room on the morning in question, and 
 glanced nervously around her, two young 
 men started from their desks simultane- 
 ously to ask her pleasure. She was 
 plainly dressed and closely veiled, but 
 her graceful figure and youthful appear- 
 ance attracted immediate attention, and 
 shipping clerks have their feelings. 
 
 ' What can I do for you, miss ? ' in- 
 quired the elder of the two, shoving the 
 younger to one side. 
 
 ' I believe you have some ships going 
 to New Zealand shortly,' stammered Iris, 
 who was too shy to mention the Pandora 
 all at once. ' Can I see a list of the 
 passengers ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, miss. Four of our vessels 
 leave the docks next week. We have
 
 I02 D7nven to Bay, 
 
 the Hindustan, the Trevelyan, and the 
 Pandora, which all carry passengers. 
 Do you require a berth ? ' 
 
 'Yes! — I think so,' replied Iris. 'That 
 is, I want to see the passenger list be- 
 fore I decide.' 
 
 ' Very good, miss ! Samuels, hand me 
 down the passenger list of the HindttstaUy 
 Captain Davis. We have four saloon 
 berths vacant here you see, miss, 
 and three second. She will not carry 
 any steerage. This is a plan of the 
 vessel,' continued the clerk, unrolling a 
 sheet of parchment. * These after-cabin 
 berths — ' 
 
 But Iris pushed it gently to one side. 
 
 ' I — I — think I would rather see the 
 passenger list of the Pandora,^ she 
 said, with a blush that was visible 
 even through her veil, and the clerk, 
 with a wink at his neighbour, passed 
 the desired paper across the counter. 
 
 * The Pandora has her full comple- 
 ment of first-class passengers, so I'm
 
 Two Women s Hearts. 103 
 
 afraid you won't find anything to suit 
 you there, as there is only a second 
 cabin vacant, miss,' continued the clerk. 
 ' She carries steerage, but, of course, 
 that is no use to you/ 
 
 * I don't know — I don't know,' re- 
 plied Iris, almost hysterically, as she 
 perused the passenger list of the Pmidora, 
 
 In a moment her quick eye had caught 
 the names of Mr and Mrs Vansittart 
 and Miss Vansittart, and then travelled 
 to the bottom of the paper where that 
 of Mr Godfrey Harland was visibly in- 
 scribed. She had expected it, and yet was 
 not prepared for it, and as it met her 
 sight and confirmed her fears, she gave 
 vent to a slight moan, and leant against 
 the counter for support. 
 
 * Are you ill, miss ? Can I fetch you 
 a glass of water ? ' asked the young 
 man in attendance anxiously. 
 
 * No, no ! I am quite well. It is 
 only the heat!' exclaimed Iris, as she 
 took up the list again to make sure she
 
 I04 Driven to Bay, 
 
 had not been mistaken. ' I — I will take 
 a berth, please, in this vessel — the Pan- 
 dora.' 
 
 ^ There Is only a second-class vacant, 
 miss,' returned the clerk. ' We could 
 accommodate you better in the Hindustan, 
 v/hich is quite as fine a ship.' 
 
 * No, I prefer the Pandora, thank you. 
 What is the price of the berth } ' 
 
 ' Twenty-five guineas, if you please.' 
 Iris placed the money on the counter, 
 with a sigh. She had imagined it 
 would be less. But if she sold the 
 dress off her back she felt that she 
 must go. 
 
 * Thank you,' said the clerk, as he 
 received the money. ' What name shall 
 I book?' 
 
 Iris started. She had never thought 
 about changing her name, but in a moment 
 she saw the expediency of it. She was so 
 long, however, before she answered the 
 question, that the clerks looked at one 
 another, and stuck their tongues in their
 
 Two Wo77tens Hearts. 105 
 
 cheeks, to intimate that this was a 'rum 
 go- 
 
 ' Miss Douglas,' said Iris at length, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 ' There is your ticket, miss,' said the 
 booking-clerk, when he had filled in her 
 name. * You see there is a plan of the 
 cabin on the back. Your berth will be 
 No. 12, and the Pandora will probably 
 sail with the early tide on Wednesday 
 next, therefore it is advisable you should 
 be on board not later than six o'clock on 
 Tuesday evening.' 
 
 'Will — will — all the passengers (the 
 first-class passengers, I mean) go on 
 board on Tuesday evening, too ? ' asked 
 Iris hesitatingly. 
 
 ' I expect so, miss. Most of them like 
 to settle down before nightfall, as there is 
 little assistance to be got when the ship's 
 starting.' 
 
 ' And might I — do you think — go on 
 board a little earlier than the others ? — to 
 avoid the bustle and confusion, I mean.'
 
 io6 Driven to Bay, 
 
 ' No ; I wouldn't do that, miss, if I 
 were you,' replied the clerk. ' Not that 
 they'd refuse to let you go aboard an hour 
 or so previously ; but they don't care to 
 see the passengers before six o'clock, when 
 they'll be all ready to receive you. I'd go 
 a little later, rather than sooner, if I were 
 you.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' replied Iris gently, as she 
 turned away. 
 
 ' Queer street, — eh ? ' said the clerk 
 rapidly to his companions, before he was 
 called to book by another customer. 
 
 Meanwhile Iris hurried homewards with 
 her ticket in her hand. It was all settled 
 then. She had cast the die. She was to 
 sail in the Pandoi^a with Godfrey. But 
 she felt very nervous now it was done, 
 and uncertain if she had acted rightly. 
 She longed for a confidant to tell her 
 trouble and her intentions to, and she 
 found it, naturally, in Maggie, with whom 
 she had promised to be explicit. 
 
 * Lor' ! mistress ! ' cried the latter, as she
 
 7\uo Women s Hearts. 107 
 
 opened the door to her, 'where on earth 
 have you been ? How dusty and hot you 
 do look. I began to think as you was lost/ 
 
 ' Come in here, Maggie, and I will tell 
 you all,' said Iris, as she passed into the 
 parlour. 
 
 Maggie shut the door carefully, and fol- 
 lowed her mistress, and stood beside her 
 chair, looking the very incarnation of dirt 
 and good humour. 
 
 ' Now, what is it, my pretty ? Nothing 
 new to vex you, I do hope.' 
 
 ' It is something very serious, Maggie. 
 Mr Harland told me last night that he 
 was going to France till his affairs were 
 settled, and he should be back again in a 
 few weeks. I find it is not true.' 
 
 * Lor' ! that's no news. He's always a- 
 lying,' said Maggie. 
 
 ' He left a letter behind him, by which 
 I discovered he was thinking of going to 
 New Zealand. I have been to the ship- 
 ping-office this morning, and I saw his 
 name down in the passengers' list. He
 
 io8 Driveji to Bay. 
 
 sails on the 24th. Ke is going to desert 
 us, Maggie.' 
 
 What ! ' cried the servant ; * is he a- 
 going right across the sea, and leave you 
 here, without no money to buy bread or 
 anythink ? ' 
 
 * Indeed he is, Maggie. Isn't it base of 
 him ? — isn't it cruel ? I wouldn't treat a 
 dog that depended on me as he has treated 
 me. What crime have I been guilty of, 
 to be punished in so inhuman a fashion .^ — 
 to be left to starve or to do worse ! Oh, my 
 God ! it is too hard, it is too bitterly hard ! ' 
 
 And Iris broke down, and sobbed 
 with her face in her hands. When she 
 lifted her head again, Maggie was kneeling 
 at her feet. 
 
 ' Don't you cry, dear mistress,' she was 
 saying, in her rough manner ; ' you shall 
 never starve whilst I have two hands to 
 work for you. Don't you cry. Oh! I've 
 bin a bad gal. Sometimes I think I must 
 tell you all, but there — it wouldn't make 
 matters better, and it might make 'em
 
 Two Women! s Hearts. 109 
 
 worse. For you lets me serve you now 
 (don't you, my pretty ?), and then you 
 mightn't. But don't talk of starving, for 
 while I live, you shall never want for 
 bread and meat.' 
 
 * It was silly of me, Maggie, to say such 
 a thing, for I can work as well as you, 
 though not perhaps in the same way, and 
 I would never eat your bread whilst I 
 could make my own. Thank you, my dear 
 girl, all the same, and I shall never forget 
 you have been a true, good friend to me. 
 But, Maes^ie, I have settled on another 
 plan. I will not be left here behind in 
 England. I am Mr Harland's wife, and I 
 have a rieht to be where he is. So when 
 I had made sure he was to sail in the 
 Pandora, I took a second-class berth in 
 the same vessel, and I shall go out to New 
 Zealand with him.' 
 
 Maggie leapt to her feet with surprise. 
 
 * Lor', mistress ! you don't never mean 
 what you say } ' 
 
 ' I do, Maggie. Why not ? Mr Har-
 
 1 1 o Driven to Bay. 
 
 land gave me some money last night to 
 keep us whilst he was away, and I have 
 spent it on a ticket for the Pandora. It 
 cost a lot,' continued Iris, with a sigh, — 
 ' twenty-five guineas, and I have only a 
 few shillings left. But I couldn't help it. 
 I fnust ofo with him.' 
 
 ' And what will you do when you gets 
 on board, mistress ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! I sha'n't discover myself to him 
 till we get to land, Maggie. He is going 
 first class with some rich friends, who 
 have given him an appointment out there, 
 and I don't want them to know about me. 
 But when we get to New Zealand, I shall 
 tell Mr Harland he must either take me 
 with him, or make me an allowance to live 
 on ; and if he refuses, I shall appeal to his 
 employers to see me righted. Why should 
 he make money, and I derive no benefit 
 from it ? I have suffered enough. Heaven 
 knows ! since I have married him, without 
 being cast off, as if I were some guilty 
 <:reature not fit to be his wife. I will not
 
 Two Women s Hearts. 1 1 1 
 
 stand It any longer. I have sworn that I 
 will not.' 
 
 Maggie had been listening to this tirade 
 with wide open, glistening eyes, and at its 
 close she threw herself prostrate on the 
 hearthrug. 
 
 ' And you will go away from England 
 to live across the sea and maybe never 
 come back again, and leave poor Maggie 
 here all alone. Oh, mistress I cannot 
 bear it. It will kill me if I don't go 
 too!' 
 
 * My poor Maggie!' cried Iris, with 
 genuine distress. ' I never thought of 
 you. But what can I do ? I can only 
 just pay for my own passage and my 
 fare to Liverpool. It leaves me nothing 
 even to buy another dress.' 
 
 * But what will become of you without 
 me ? ' wailed the woman. ' Do you know 
 what that brute will do when he finds 
 out you've tricked him ? He'll half kill you, 
 as he's tried to often and often in this 
 very room ; and you'd have been dead now,
 
 112 Di'iven to Bay. 
 
 if it hadn't been for me. I cant let you 
 go alone, mistress. You'll never come 
 back. He'll find some means of making 
 away with you out there.' 
 
 'Oh, Maggie! what can I do?' exclaimed 
 her mistress. * I should love to take you 
 with me — indeed, my troubles have been 
 so many I never thought what an addi- 
 tional one parting with you would prove, 
 till you mentioned it to me. But how can 
 I raise the money, dear ? I have only 
 seven shillings left.' 
 
 *You sha'n't go alone,' said Maggie 
 fiercely ; ' I won't trust you with him 
 alone. I ain't fit to be your protector, 
 but I'm the only one you've got, and 
 it's the only way I can make up 
 to you for all the harm I've done 
 you.' 
 
 ' How strangely you talk, Maggie. 
 What harm have you ever done me ? ' 
 
 *Ah, don't mind my chatter, dear; I'm 
 half crazy with grief and fear, and I don't 
 know what I'm saying. But you sha'n't
 
 Two Women s Hearts. 113 
 
 fall into that devil's clutches if I can save 
 you. Don't all this furniture belong to 
 you, mistress ? ' 
 
 * Yes, Maggie, such as it is, it is ours — 
 and we only have the rooms by the week.' 
 
 ' Well, mistress, I have a few shillings 
 saved out of my wages, and if you'll leave 
 it all to me, I'll manage it.' 
 
 ' But how, Maggie } ' demanded Iris. 
 
 ' I'll give Mrs Barton notice at once, 
 and move you out into other rooms on 
 Saturday, and then I'll get rid of the sticks 
 and things, and they'll pull us through.' 
 
 * Oh, Maggie, they will never fetch more 
 than a few pounds at the outside. There 
 is hardly a sound piece of furniture amongst 
 them.' 
 
 * Yes ! thanks to his tantrums. But 
 there will be enough for our purpose. 
 Mistress, you mtist give in to me in this, 
 for if I steals the money I shall sail in 
 that ship with you. Oh, my dear, my dear ! 
 Don't you know as I'd lay down my worth- 
 less life to save you pain.' 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 1 1 4 Driven to Bay. 
 
 And with that the two poor creatures 
 fell into each other's arms and wept. 
 They were as different to look at as light 
 from darkness, but they possessed one 
 great virtue in common, a true and genuine 
 woman's heart.
 
 CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 THE 'pandora: 
 
 ^^l^pHE newly-appointed officers were 
 ^g ^S o^^ board the Pandora. Abel 
 ^^^4:5^^ Coffin was the name of the 
 chief officer. He was a short, broad built 
 man, with a bullet head and square shoul- 
 ders. Peeping out from beneath his bushy 
 brows were two small black eyes, which 
 winked and blinked, and were apparently 
 never at rest, except when in the arms 
 of Morpheus. His nose was inclined to 
 be celestial, broad and unshapely, and of 
 rather a rubicund tint that corresponded 
 with the tips of his large ears ; but whether
 
 1 1 6 Driven to Bay. 
 
 it arose from the free use of stimulants, or 
 the biting northerly winds of the Atlantic 
 Ocean, it was difficult to say. A strong 
 set of teeth, discoloured by tobacco, were 
 firmly set in his jaw, and covered by a pair 
 of thick lips. A profusion of coarse, wiry 
 hair encircled his face, to which the absence 
 of a moustache gave a dogged appearance. 
 There was a ponderous look altogether 
 about the man. He was not corpulent, 
 but his bones were large, and sinews took 
 the place of flesh. In point of fact, Abel 
 Coffin was exceedingly powerful, and cap- 
 able of enduring great fatigue. He was a 
 smart man, too ; the school in which he had 
 been reared being a severe one, but it had 
 turned him out every inch a sailor. 
 
 When quite a lad he had been appren- 
 ticed by his father to a Bostonian, which 
 carried timber between Liverpool and the 
 States. In this old tub — which boasted 
 a jackass rig — which took two hands 
 to steer her in an ordinary seven-knot 
 breeze, and whose windmill pump was
 
 The ' Pandora' 117 
 
 always required to be kept upon the move, 
 Abel Coffin had gone in at the hawse 
 holes and out at the cabin windows. And 
 doubtless he would have remained in her 
 for ever had she not been so battered 
 about after she had jumped and thrashed 
 her way into a nasty cross sea, that, after 
 having been towed into the Mersey by 
 a compassionate tug, it was decided that 
 she should be broken up as unsafe to 
 make another trip across the 'duck pond. 
 So he had come up to London, and dur- 
 ing his wanderings about the docks in 
 search of an outward bounder, had en- 
 countered the captain of the Pa7idora, and 
 on producing his tin case of mildewed 
 certificates and discharges, had been duly 
 installed as mate. He was a rough, gener- 
 ous, and good-hearted fellow — a trifle 
 severe, but just and honest, and always 
 to be found at his post when duty re- 
 quired it. On board the old wooden 
 barge he had been accustomed to hear 
 the orders bawled out, and usually accom-
 
 1 1 8 Driven to Bay. 
 
 panied by foul oaths — his only companions 
 had been his mate and boatswain — and 
 his food coarse and unpalatable. 
 
 The vessel was badly manned ; all her 
 gear stiff and old-fashioned, and she re. 
 quired a deal of handling. Her sails were 
 covered with geordie patches, and when 
 stowed were huddled to the yards in a 
 most ungainly fashion. Red rust was pre- 
 valent from the want of paint, or rather 
 coal tar, and her decks were scratched and 
 dented, and had not been acquainted for 
 years with the carpenter's caulking irons 
 and mallet. In a stiff breeze she yawed 
 and capered about like a tipsy woman, 
 thumping heavily into the seas, and send- 
 ing banks of angry foam rushing from her 
 basin - shaped bows. She plunged and 
 groaned, compelling the skipper to watch 
 her very closely, as she rushed from her 
 course and then refused to come to, till the 
 wheel was hard down, and she had cracked 
 and strained her timbers and described the 
 letter S in her wake, and the weary helms-
 
 The 'Pandora! 119 
 
 man's arms ached with the amount of 
 labour she required. 
 
 To step from such a vessel as this on to 
 the deck of the Pandora was a new 
 experience in Abel Coffin's life, and he 
 appreciated it accordingly. The trim 
 passenger ship, fitted up with all the latest 
 improvements and designs — well manned 
 by strong able seamen — and provisioned 
 with a goodly supply of live stock and 
 fresh vegetables — was a rich feast for his 
 eyes, and to be her chief officer a stroke 
 of good luck he had never contemplated. 
 It was like leaving two squalid furnished 
 apartments to take up his quarters in a 
 first-class hotel, and though, as yet, not 
 quite at home in his new capacity, Abel 
 Coffin worked with his accustomed zeal, 
 and rather astonished the easy - going 
 seamen. It was the day before the 
 departure of the Pandora, and every one 
 on board was active. The last lighters 
 were alongside with their casks and cases, 
 and Jack Blythe was superintending
 
 I20 Driven to Bay. 
 
 their stowage in the main hatchway. 
 The steward bustled about the decks, 
 attended by his satelHtes, carrying squeak- 
 ing fowls and quacking ducks to their 
 coops, which were lashed on top of the 
 house amidships. The black cook and 
 the butchers unmercifully dragged the un- 
 fortunate sheep and pigs to their pens, 
 whilst able seamen were busy serving the 
 running gear, and coiling down the warps, 
 to be in readiness to heave out. Small 
 carts and drays waited on the wharf to 
 unload their cargoes of vegetables, cabin 
 stores, and ship's dry provisions, and por- 
 ters, with trucks of passengers' luggage, and 
 seamen's chests and baggage, with shell- 
 backs, runners, boarding - house keepers, 
 and gaily-dressed women, were all looking 
 out for some one or other, who was about 
 to sail in the Pandora. Confusion reiofned 
 supreme. The decks were hampered with 
 coils of rope, tins of varnish, sails that 
 were to be bent and gear to be lashed or 
 stowed away, and in the midst of this
 
 The 'Pandora! 121 
 
 Babel, Mr Coffin was here, there, and 
 everywhere. Now on the poop slacking 
 away a barge's stern rope — then on the 
 quarter-deck signing a receipt — anon on 
 the top-gallant forecastle, heaving a pall 
 with the capstan, or making up a jib 
 ready to be sent out on to the boom. 
 Jack Blythe was not so active as his 
 superior. He was obliged to stow the 
 last cases and barrels very carefully in 
 the lower decks, so as to leave a passage 
 to the locker, in order that forty tons of 
 gunpowder might be taken aboard, and 
 placed there when the vessel reached the 
 hulks. The third mate was a nice-looking 
 youngster, who had just passed his second 
 officer's examination. His name was 
 Richard Sparkes. He was a tall lad, with 
 curly brown hair, an apology for a mous- 
 tache, and bright blue eyes. His duties 
 were confined to the passengers' stores, 
 the safety of the live stock, and the care of 
 the fresh water. 
 
 As the clock struck twelve work was
 
 122 Driven to Bay, 
 
 knocked off, and the youngest officer being 
 left in charge of the ship, the two elders 
 stepped on to the quay, and went to get 
 their mid-day meal. 
 
 Vernon Blythe walked to a small hotel, 
 in the bar window of which the landlord 
 had placed a placard to the effect, that he 
 had * Good accommodation for officers and 
 midshipmen.' There he sat down to a 
 table d'hote, and afterwards amused him- 
 self with Lloyd's Skipping News, whilst 
 inhaling the fragrant bouquet of a well- 
 coloured pipe, and giving an occasional 
 thought to Alice Leyton's near arrival. 
 
 But where Mr Coffin disappeared to, 
 it would be difficult to say. He was an 
 entirely different man from his second. 
 His habits, manners, and associates were 
 all rough and unpolished. He had been 
 born in a fishing village, and nurtured 
 among whalers, deep-sea fishers, and lime- 
 juicers. He had never entered cultivated 
 society, consequently he was shy and re- 
 served, and when on shore sought out
 
 The 'Pandora' 123 
 
 such habitats as sailors of his stamp 
 usually frequent. He had looked with 
 astonishment, not unmixed with contempt, 
 at Jack Blythe's handsome and refined 
 features, close cropped hair, well kept 
 hands, and neat attire. He had already 
 set him down as a fair-weather sailor, and 
 a dandy, and doubted his ability in a time 
 of trouble. Before the voyage was over 
 Abel Coffin had acknowleged to him- 
 self and Vernon Blythe that he was 
 wrong. 
 
 In the afternoon the busy throng that 
 waited on the quay, and the dock loafers 
 that hung about the shipping, gradually 
 cleared away, and at five o'clock the 
 hatches were battened down, and Mr 
 Coffin reported the Pandora ready for sea. 
 By the time the dinner-bell was sounded, 
 most of the passengers had arrived to 
 answer to its summons. 
 
 Jack Blythe had received the Leytons at 
 the head of the gangway. Mrs Leyton, 
 a fragile-looking woman, whose delicate
 
 124 Driven to Bay. 
 
 health had been the cause of her residing 
 in England for some years past, came first, 
 with her youngest born, a heavy child of 
 four years old, in her arms. 
 
 ' Give baby to me, Mrs Leyton,' cried 
 Jack, eagerly, as she came toiling along 
 the gangway. ' Why didn't you let one of 
 the sailors carry her. She is much too 
 heavy for you.' 
 
 * She is so naughty,' sighed the poor 
 mother ; ' she will go to no one but myself.' 
 
 *Ah, you spoil her,' said Jack, as he 
 helped them both on deck. 
 
 ' It's more than she does me ! ' exclaimed 
 Alice's merry voice behind them. 
 
 * Everybody spoils you, you monkey,' 
 replied her lover, as he turned to greet 
 her. 
 
 ' Well, did you think we had altered our 
 minds, and were never coming. Jack } 
 And how do you like me, now / have 
 come ? ' inquired Alice, consciously. 
 
 ' You look charming, as you always do,' 
 he answered.
 
 The 'Pa7idora' 125 
 
 Most men would have returned a more 
 enthusiastic reply, for Alice was looking 
 her very best. Robed in a yachting 
 costume of white serge, with gilt anchor 
 buttons, and a sailor's hat bound with 
 white ribbon, set coquettishly upon her 
 sunny curls, she ran a muck of the heart 
 of every son of Neptune who saw her 
 step upon the deck. 
 
 ' Well, it's something to get a compli- 
 ment out of you, Jack. '' All scraps thank- 
 fully received." But come along and show 
 us our cabin, and help us to get straight. 
 I can't think how we are all going to get 
 into it.' 
 
 ' I wish I could obey your bidding, Alice, 
 but it's impossible,' replied Jack. ' I can't 
 stir from here. I'm on duty.* 
 
 A cloud came over Alice's fair face. 
 
 ' I don't believe it. You're looking out 
 for somebody else.' 
 
 ' You've hit it ! ' he exclaimed, with a 
 merry laugh. ' I am waiting for my other 
 girl.' And, at that moment, as if to con-
 
 126 Driven to Bay. 
 
 firm his joking assertion, Mrs and Miss 
 Vansittart appeared. 
 
 ' Mr Sparkes,' Jack had just time to call 
 out, ' take these ladies into the saloon, 
 and tell the stewardess to show them 
 their cabin,' and then he turned away 
 to attend to the new comers. Alice 
 Leyton pouted visibly at what she con- 
 sidered her lover's neglect ; but Mr 
 Richard Sparkes was so delightfully pleas- 
 ant and gallant, that she soon forgot all 
 about it. 
 
 ' Allow me,' said Vernon Blythe grace- 
 fully, as he extended his hand for the 
 convenience of Mrs Vansittart. 
 
 ' Lor' ! thank you, sir, I'm sure ! ' ex- 
 claimed the panting, good - humoured 
 woman, as she clawed hold of his arm 
 with her enormous fist. ' Moving is a 
 worry, and no mistake. However, thank 
 heaven ! it's for the last time. When I've 
 once got home, no one will tempt me back 
 again. Where are you, Grace ? Don't 
 tumble into the water, whatever you do.
 
 The 'Pandora! 127 
 
 It's a real risk of life to ask anyone to cross 
 such a narrow plank as that.' 
 
 * Here I am, mamma — close behind you,' 
 replied Grace. 
 
 ' And the peril is over, for this time at 
 least,' observed Jack, as he helped her on 
 to the deck. Grace smiled upon him very 
 graciously. She was struck with his bright, 
 handsome face at first sight. If all the 
 officers of the Pandora were like this one 
 (she thought) the voyage might not pass 
 so tediously as she anticipated. Mr Van- 
 sittart followed closely on the heels of his 
 wife and daughter, and Godfrey Harland, 
 who had been staying at their house for 
 the last few days, brought up the rear. 
 As the latter raised his head, and en- 
 countered the honest eyes of the young 
 sailor looking straight into his, although 
 the glance was only instigated by a 
 natural curiosity, he turned his uneasily 
 away. These men had never met each 
 other before. They were not even aware 
 of each other's names, and yet they in-
 
 128 Drive7i to Bay. 
 
 stinctively felt a mutual dislike. Godfrey 
 put Vernon down at once as a conceited, 
 impertinent puppy — above his condition in 
 life — and likely to give trouble in case of 
 being roused. And Vernon mentally de- 
 cided that Godfrey was shifty, independ- 
 able, and a man to be avoided. 
 
 ' Nasty eyes,' he said to himself after- 
 wards ; ' I wouldn't trust that fellow with 
 change for a sovereign. If there's any 
 play going on during the voyage, I shall 
 keep a sharp look out upon him.' But 
 at the moment he was compelled to be 
 all politeness. 
 
 * Vansittart — stern cabins i and 2,' he 
 said, as he glanced at their tickets. ' If 
 you will take the ladies into the saloon, 
 sir, you will find the steward ready to 
 show you the way. Mr Godfrey Harland, 
 No. 14, your cabin is aft amongst the 
 gentlemen ; ' and with this Vernon Blythe 
 turned curtly away, and commenced to 
 give orders concerning the passengers' 
 baggage.
 
 The 'Pando7'a' 129 
 
 Godfrey Harland perceived his manner 
 towards him, and resolved to resent it. 
 ' I'll pay that puppy out for his imper- 
 tinence before many days are over,' he 
 thought, as he followed his employers to 
 the saloon. By seven o'clock the whole 
 party were seated at dinner. At the head 
 of the table sat Dr Lennard, who was 
 always in great request by all the ladies 
 on board. He had a very handsome 
 woman placed upon his right, to whom 
 he was paying the most deferential atten- 
 tion ; but he had soon entered into friendly 
 conversation with the Vansittarts and 
 Godfrey Harland, whose seats were all 
 near him. At the other end, in the 
 captain's chair, sat Mr Coffin, looking 
 strangely out of place amongst the pretty 
 girls and well-dressed men by whom he 
 was surrounded, and almost surly in his 
 nervousness, as he ladled out the soup 
 and carved the joints. Beside him was 
 seated the third officer, who had contrived, 
 for this evening at least, to secure a seat 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 130 Driven to Bay. 
 
 next to Alice Leyton, whose pretty face, 
 merry laugh, and animated conversation 
 kept all the men round her in a state 
 of excitement ; and especially interested 
 a certain Captain Lovell, who could not 
 take his eyes off her. Yes, Alice could 
 laugh, and flirt, and enjoy herself, although 
 Vernon Blythe was not by her side, — not 
 even enjoying his dinner at the same 
 time. On the poop (or, as many sailors 
 call it, the ' knife-board '), he paced up 
 and down, keeping his watch till he 
 should be relieved from duty, now and 
 then glancing at the weather-vane, as if 
 expectant of a sudden shift of wind. 
 
 ' I say, what do you do that for ? ' 
 inquired a voice near him, in drawling, 
 languid tones. 
 
 Jack looked round at the speaker, as 
 if he considered the question altogether 
 too silly to answer. 
 
 * Is there anything up there ? ' continued 
 the new comer, indicating the weather- 
 vane.
 
 The 'Pandora.^ 
 
 131 
 
 ' More than there is down here by a 
 good deal,' replied Jack, referring to the 
 stranger's brains. 
 
 But Harold Greenwood deserves a 
 chapter to himself.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR GREENWOOD. 
 
 E was one of those wonderful 
 anomalies in coat and trousers, 
 at which we gaze curiously, as 
 we speculate to which sex they belong. 
 He had light flaxen hair, perceptibly 
 crimped with hot irons, pale blue eyes, 
 and small, dolly features. The suspicion 
 of a whitey-brown moustache on his upper 
 lip was like the down on an apple-tart. 
 His hands were fat, and short, and 
 white — almost dimpled — and laden with 
 women's rings. He was dressed in a tight 
 check suit, a brown felt hat, gaiters, and
 
 Mr Greenwood, 133 
 
 patent-leather shoes. In his hand he 
 carried a small Malacca cane, which he 
 usually swung backwards and forwards, 
 while he stood with his legs well apart; 
 an eyeglass was stuck with so painful an 
 effort into his eye that it distorted his 
 features ; and he wore his hat a little to 
 one side, which was intended to give him 
 a rakish appearance. A gold chain of 
 great length and thickness was stretched 
 across his waistcoat. At one end of It 
 dangled his keys, at the other a button- 
 hook. From his breast-pocket peeped 
 out a pink silk handkerchief, placed there 
 for ornament rather than use, and en- 
 circling his throat was a white collar, so 
 high and so well starched that he was 
 frequently obliged to place his fingers 
 between the linen and the skin to prevent 
 his throttling. 
 
 Vernon Blythe looked down at this 
 mannikin with supreme contempt, not 
 unmixed with amusement. 
 
 * I suppose you are an officer of
 
 1 34 Driven to Bay. 
 
 the ship — eh?' rejoined Mr Green- 
 wood. 
 
 ' I suppose I am,' said Jack coolly. 
 
 ' Well, when shall we sail — eh ? Can 
 you tell me that ? ' 
 
 ' By the first tide to-morrow morning.' 
 
 ' But when will the first tide be ? I'm 
 a passenger, you see, so I've a right to 
 know. Haven't I — eh ? My name is 
 Greenwood — Harold Greenwood. I have 
 one of the deck cabins.' 
 
 'Why don't you go down to your 
 dinner ? ' asked Jack, ignoring his queries. 
 
 ' Oh, because I dined before I came on 
 board. Didn't know what I might get 
 here, don't you know ? Had dinner with 
 a friend, and a game at billiards. Oh, 
 by the way, have you a billiard-table on 
 board ? Awfully jolly game billiards, 
 don't you know ? ' and placing his hand 
 upon the pipe rail, whilst he used his 
 cane for a cue, Mr Greenwood com- 
 menced pushing away at an imaginary 
 ball.
 
 Mr Greenwood. 135 
 
 To this absurd question Jack Blythe 
 again vouchsafed no answer. 
 
 ' I say, do you like waltzing? — awfully 
 nice waltzing,' resumed the youth, com- 
 mencing to whistle, and dance round in 
 a circle with his cane for a partner. ' I 
 suppose we shall have a dance every 
 evening .^ I hear there are some devilish 
 pretty girls on board, and it will be our 
 duty to pay them some attention. We 
 shall miss the rides in the Row, and the 
 shooting awfully, don't you know ? ' he 
 went on, pretending his cane was a gun, 
 and levelling it at the maintopsail block ; 
 ' but we must make the best of it, and 
 a bit of flirtation ain't such bad fun on 
 a long voyage, don't you know .^^ It 
 passes the time, and it pleases the girls, 
 and so it does good all round, eh V 
 
 ' I should think you would be sure to do 
 them a lot of good. There's no doubt 
 at all about that,' replied Jack Blythe 
 gruffly, as he turned on his heel. 
 
 There could not have been a greater
 
 136 Driven to Bay. 
 
 contrast than between these two men. To 
 see them side by side was to doubt the 
 possibiHty of their belonging to the same 
 order of creation. Jack Blythe, strong, 
 healthy, and muscular, with arms and 
 hands that had been developed by manual 
 labour, and a fresh skin, which had been 
 bronzed by a tropical sun, and washed and 
 beaten by the salt sprays of the Atlantic 
 — with manly and practical ideas, and a 
 wholesome horror of effeminacy and all 
 that pertains to a fop ; and Harold Green- 
 wood, with a milk-and-water complexion 
 and flabby muscles, — soft limbs, that stood 
 on a par with those of a woman, and 
 a head crammed with superficial ideas, 
 that showed the narrowness of his nature 
 and the absence of even an ordinary 
 amount of brain. 
 
 'Awfully jolly weather this, isn't it?' 
 continued Harold Greenwood, who was 
 too dense to take a rebuff unless it was 
 administered in the shape of a kick. * I 
 say, what time do they call a fella here
 
 Mr Greenwood, 137 
 
 In the morning ? I should like to be up 
 to see the ship start. Do you think the 
 steward will remember to wake me ? ' 
 
 ' I don't know,' returned Vernon 
 brusquely. * You had better ask him 
 
 yourself. And I wish the d 1 you 
 
 wouldn't whisk your stick about in that 
 absurd manner. You will put out my eye 
 in another minute.' 
 
 This last request, which was delivered 
 in a very angry tone of voice, startled 
 'Miss Nancy' altogether, and with a 
 muttered apology, and a half-frightened 
 look at the second officer, Mr Greenwood 
 hurried down the accommodation ladder, 
 thinking what very rude men sailors 
 seemed to be, whilst Jack continued to 
 keep his watch, and to smile to himself 
 whenever the sound of Alice's ringing 
 laughter was wafted upwards through the 
 open skylights of the saloon. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the second cabin some of 
 the passengers had sat down to tea, and 
 were discussing in lubber-like terms the
 
 138 Driven to Bay. 
 
 qualities and accommodation of the vessel, 
 whilst others were amusing themselves by 
 unpacking their chests and ranging the 
 necessary articles for the voyage in the 
 places assigned to them. They were a 
 large party, and there was much fun and 
 confusion amongst them, the dearth of 
 space in their sleeping cabins, and the 
 difficulty of finding room for their various 
 belongings, seeming to provoke more 
 laughter than vexation. Will Farrell 
 especially appeared to be enjoying him- 
 self. He was excited at the idea of 
 leaving England and commencing a new 
 life in the bush, and having the oppor- 
 tunity to shake off the suspicion which had 
 been wrongfully attached to him. He had 
 already made fast friends with a man 
 called Bob Perry, and was sitting at the 
 tea-table with him discussing subjects of 
 interest connected with New Zealand, 
 with which Perry had been for some years 
 familiar. It was at this juncture that 
 the second officer, from his watch on the
 
 Mr Greenwood. 139 
 
 poop, saw a sailor run to the side to help 
 two more passengers over the gangway. 
 They were both women. The first one 
 stumbled, and came head foremost upon 
 deck, striking the gallant seaman who 
 waited to receive her a violent blow in the 
 chest, which he took with a roar of 
 lauofhter, in which several of his messmates 
 joined. The mirth and confusion seemed 
 to make the second passenger timid, for as 
 she stepped over the gangway she glanced 
 in a nervous manner from one end of the 
 vessel to the other, and whispered to her 
 companion, who in her turn communicated 
 her wishes in a very low voice to the sailor. 
 * Second cabin, miss,' he replied aloud ; 
 'why, certainly. I'll show you the way. 
 Round this here corner, that's it, and 
 down them stairs. Take care. Turn 
 round, miss, and go down back'ards, or 
 you'll come a cropper. Now you're safe, 
 and the cabin's just afore you. No 
 thanks, miss — no thanks,' and the sailor 
 went upon his own business.
 
 140 Driven to Bay. 
 
 Vernon, watching this little episode 
 from the elevation of the poop, could not 
 help wondering for a moment who this 
 second-class passenger could be, who 
 seemed so timid and shrinking, and unlike 
 the company in which she would find her- 
 self. She appeared to be a lady travelling 
 with her maid, but what gentlewoman who 
 could afford to keep a servant would go 
 second class ? The mystery, slight as it 
 was, was sufficient to puzzle him, and keep 
 him thinking of the last arrivals until he 
 was relieved of his watch. Meanwhile 
 Iris Harland and Maggie had found their 
 way into the second cabin, where all 
 eyes greeted them with a prolonged 
 stare. Iris was terribly nervous — fearful 
 in each face to recognise that of her 
 husband ; and her companion was not 
 much better. However, there was no 
 need for alarm, and after a minute or 
 two, when they saw they were in the 
 midst of strangers, they recovered their 
 confidence. Maggie was the first to speak.
 
 Mr Greenwood, 141 
 
 * Can any of you gentlemen show us 
 the way to cabin number twelve ? ' she 
 asked, as, laden with parcels and band- 
 boxes, she pushed her way to the front. 
 
 Maggie was looking fresh and comely 
 that evening. She wore her best clothes, 
 and she had 'cleaned herself for the 
 occasion. Her dark hair and eyes 
 formed a vivid contrast to her rosy 
 cheeks ; and her wide mouth, with its 
 strong white teeth, looked sweet and 
 wholesome. Will Farrell was the first 
 man to answer her challenge. 
 
 '/ will!' he exclaimed, jumping up 
 from his seat. ' I sleep in number 
 eleven. Here it is, you see — next to 
 mine.' 
 
 ' Thank you kindly. 'Tisn't for me ; 
 it's for this lady here. And now, how 
 are we to get our boxes down ? ' 
 
 ' Where are they ? ' demanded Farrell. 
 
 * On deck. There's two of 'em. A 
 black box, and a little blue one that's 
 mine.'
 
 142 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' If they're not very large, I'll bring 
 them down for you.' 
 
 * Oh ! youd make nothing of them. 
 I'd carry them myself, except for those 
 plaguey stairs.' 
 
 ' Maggie,' remonstrated Iris, in a low 
 voice, ' we cannot trouble this gentleman. 
 Remember he is a stranger.' 
 
 ' Oh, no ! he ain't. Are you, sir ? No 
 one is strangers once they're on board 
 ship together.' 
 
 ' Of course not,' rejoined Farrell heartily, 
 ' and if it is the case, the sooner we're 
 friends the better. But won't you have a 
 cup of tea first ? Shall I tell the steward 
 to fetch you some ? Your friend looks 
 tired.' 
 
 ' She is tired, poor dear ! ' replied 
 Maggie, who had been warned to treat 
 Iris as her equal during the voyage. 
 
 ' I'll fetch it whilst you are taking off 
 your things,' replied Farrell, hastening 
 away. 
 
 * Now, mistress, take off your hat and
 
 Mr Greenwood. 143 
 
 veil,' whispered Maggie to Iris, as he 
 disappeared, * this place is stifling hot.' 
 
 ' Oh, Maggie ! I feel as I should never 
 dare to show my face in public' 
 
 ' Oh, but that's nonsense ! Besides, 
 there's no fear. He II be a deal too grand 
 to put his foot in the second cabin : you 
 may take your oath of that. And here 
 comes back this good fellow with the tea.' 
 
 ' Really, sir, you're very kind to us,' 
 said Maggie, as Farrell set two cups of 
 steaming tea before them, ' but / mustn't 
 drink any, you know. / ain't a second 
 classer. I'm only steerage, and I shouldn't 
 have intruded myself here at all, except to 
 see this lady safe to her cabin, because 
 she ain't used to roughing it, as I am.' 
 
 * There's no harm in saying thaty she 
 continued, as a slight pinch from Iris 
 warned her not to go too far. 
 
 * You are travelling in the steerage ! ' 
 exclaimed Will Farrell ; ' I am sorry.' 
 
 ' Why so, sir ? It's good enough for 
 me. I'm not a duchess.'
 
 144 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' No ! and I'm not a duke, and so I 
 think we should have been good company 
 for each other on the voyage, Miss 
 Maggie.' 
 
 ' Miss Greet, if you please, sir. I 
 don't hold to being called out of my 
 name.' 
 
 ' Miss Greet, then. However, the 
 steerage is not far off, and so I shall still 
 hope we may see a good deal of each 
 other.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that, but if you'll 
 turn your attention to my lady — I mean 
 to my friend here — and help her instead 
 of me, I should be ever so much more 
 obliged to you. I daresay I shall find 
 plenty of young men in the steerage — 
 they ain't a scarce commodity — but Mrs 
 — I mean Miss Douglas, don't know 
 a soul here, and you can be all the use in 
 the world to her.' 
 
 ' Hush! hush ! Maggie,' pleaded Iris. 
 
 * You just keep quiet, my dear, and let 
 me say what I choose.'
 
 Mr Greejtzvood. 145 
 
 * I shall be deliorhted to be of use to 
 both of you/ replied Farrell, who had not 
 failed to observe that Iris was a very pretty 
 woman ; ' and as an earnest of my good- 
 will, I will go and bring down these boxes 
 at once.' And off he ran. 
 
 * Now, ain't that a good sort ? ' cried 
 Maggie admiringly. 
 
 * He seems so,' replied Iris. * But, Mag- 
 gie, I think I shall go to my berth at once. 
 I shall never feel safe until we are well 
 out to sea.' 
 
 * All right, my dear. But here comes 
 that chap with the boxes. Let me just go 
 and see where he puts mine first, and 
 then I'll come back, if they'll let me, and 
 help you get to bed. Will you pro- 
 mise me to sit here quiet till I come ? ' 
 
 * Yes,' said Iris mechanically, as she 
 took up a newspaper, and commenced to 
 read. 
 
 Many eyes were turned towards her 
 as she sat there, with her pale, beautiful 
 face half-shaded by the brim of her hat 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 146 Driven to Bay. 
 
 and the thick veil, which was only par- 
 tially withdrawn ; and many conjectures 
 were raised as to why so young a 
 creature was going out to the new 
 country alone. 
 
 Perhaps it was the little drama he 
 had seen enacted on her arrival which 
 induced Vernon Blythe to pay a visit 
 to the second cabin that evening. Per- 
 haps it was the fate which stalks us all, 
 and pulls the strings of our lives as if 
 we were so many puppets, bound to 
 caper at its will. Anyway, when his 
 watch was relieved, he bent his steps 
 there, instead of going down to the 
 saloon. As he entered. Iris Harland 
 was sitting where Maggie had left her, 
 at the end of the long table furthest 
 removed from the door ; and Vernon 
 Blythe stood on the threshold, and re- 
 garded her for some minutes before she 
 was even aware of his presence. He had 
 not caught a single glimpse of the face 
 of the lady who had arrived so late, he
 
 Mr Greenwood. 147 
 
 had scarcely seen the outlines of her 
 figure, and yet he felt sure that that was 
 she sitting under the swinging lampj 
 with her graceful form bent forward, 
 her eyes cast down upon the paper, and 
 one slim white hand resting on the table. 
 How strangely her appearance starded 
 and affected him. He had never, to his 
 knowledge, seen her before, and yet his 
 heart almost stood still to look at her. 
 Who was she ? Where were her friends ? 
 What was she doing here alone, in an 
 atmosphere so evidently uncongenial to 
 her ? Jack Blythe had not been so many 
 years at sea without gaining a thorough 
 knowledge of the different classes of 
 passengers a vessel is accustomed to 
 carry. And this passenger, he could 
 tell from merely looking at her, was 
 out of her class and her own sphere 
 altogether. Could there be • any error 
 in the matter ? She seemed very shy, 
 and inexperienced. Was it possible she 
 had got into the wrong cabin by mistake ?
 
 148 Driven to Bay. 
 
 Jack determined to find out, and with that 
 view walked up to the further end of 
 the table. As Iris perceived that some 
 one was approaching her, she drew the 
 thick veil she wore right over her 
 features, and pretended still to be reading 
 through it, although it was impossible she 
 could decipher a word. Jack threw 
 himself into a seat near her, and whistled 
 a few bars of music carelessly, just to 
 show that he was completely at his ease. 
 Then after the pause of a minute, he 
 addressed her : — 
 
 ' I beg your pardon ! I hope that you 
 are comfortable, and have everything 
 you require. Things are apt to be a 
 little confused on starting, but I am one 
 of the officers of the ship, and if there 
 is anything I can do for you, you have 
 but to ask me.' 
 
 He paused for a reply, but it was 
 long in coming. Iris's thick veil did not 
 prevent her hearing, and the sound of 
 his young manly voice had struck on
 
 Mr Greenwood. 149 
 
 her heart Hke a knell. She recognised 
 it at once, and even through her veil 
 she recognised him. She remembered 
 distinctly when she had heard that voice 
 last, — its earnest, passionate tones, — the 
 strangled agony in it on her refusal to 
 listen, — the sob with which he had turned 
 to leave her for ever! She had often 
 thought of that scene, and of her boyish 
 lover since then, — had often asked her> 
 self whether she had not been a blind 
 fool to turn from his suit to listen to 
 that of Godfrey Harland, — had even won- 
 dered if she should ever meet Vernon 
 Blythe again, and tell him she regretted 
 the pain which she had given him. 
 And here he was — in the very same 
 ship with herself, and speaking to her 
 in that unforgotten voice. At the first 
 blush, it seemed to Iris Harland as if 
 everything were lost. Her own voice 
 shook so in answering him that it would 
 have been hard for any one to recog- 
 nise it.
 
 150 Driven to Bay, 
 
 ' Thank you,' she said, In the lowest 
 possible tone, ' but there is nothing.' 
 
 ' Introductions are not supposed to be 
 necessary aboard ship,' continued Jack, 
 * so I hope you will not think me for- 
 ward in asking your name.' 
 
 ' Miss Douglas.' 
 
 ' And mine is Vernon Blythe, at your 
 service/ he said, lifting his cap and 
 putting it on his head again. ' Are you 
 going out to Lyttleton ? ' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 ' You have friends there, perhaps ? ' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 This answer puzzled him. What on 
 earth could so young a lady intend to 
 do in a strange country without friends '^. 
 He hazarded another conjecture. 
 
 ' You know the country then .^ — you 
 have been there before ? ' 
 
 ' No, never ! ' replied Miss Douglas, 
 in the same agitated tones. 
 
 After this, Jack felt that he must ask 
 no more. She evidently did not wish
 
 Mr Greenwood. 1 5 1 
 
 to be communicative, and further ques- 
 tioning would devolve into impertinence. 
 He was wondering if he dared speak 
 to her again, when Maggie Greet rushed 
 back into the cabin, and up to her 
 mistress's side. 
 
 ' Now, my dear,' she cried, ^ I'm 
 going to put you to bed.' 
 
 'Yes, yes!' whispered Iris convul- 
 sively, clinging to her, * take me away 
 at once — take me to bed.' 
 
 Maggie saw she was on the point of 
 breaking down, and looked round for the 
 cause. Her eyes fell on Vernon Blythe, 
 sheepishly watching them both. 
 
 ' What have you been a-saying to her ? ' 
 she demanded curtly. 
 
 * Nothing — nothing, Maggie ! ' sobbed 
 Iris. 
 
 ' I hope, indeed,' said Vernon, ' that 
 I have not offended Miss Douglas by 
 my offers of assistance. They were made 
 with the best intentions, I can assure 
 vou.'
 
 152 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! I know — ' gasped Iris ; 
 ' but I'm tired — and — and a little faint, 
 and I'd rather ^o to bed.' 
 
 * She's overdone — that's where it is, 
 sir,' explained Maggie, as she cuddled 
 Iris's head to her bosom, 'and the sooner 
 she's asleep the better. Come along, m)' 
 pretty ! ' and she half led, half dragged 
 Iris into No. 12. 
 
 She went without even bidding Jack 
 a formal good-night. He felt a little 
 mortified when he thought of it, but, 
 after all, what was Miss Douglas to 
 him ? He rose up, and went whistling 
 out of the cabin as she disappeared ; but 
 he thought more than once of the mys- 
 terious second-class passenger before they 
 met again,
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 GOOD-BYE TO ENGLAND. 
 
 ^^^^^HE sun shone brightly on the 
 5^1 M^ dark, turbid waters of the 
 (^4s^^^ Indian Docks, making the 
 binnacles sparkle like burnished gold, 
 under the influence of his rays. The 
 Blue Peter floated gaily at the fore royal 
 masthead of the Pandora, and all was 
 in readiness to receive the pilot. The 
 decks were cleared up, and the hatches 
 battened down. The anchors were hang- 
 ing in their tackles, the cables were over- 
 hauled over the windlass and ranged 
 along: the deck, and innumerable lines
 
 154 Driven to Bay. 
 
 and warps were coiled down, all ready 
 to be paid out into the boat. 
 
 Punctual to time, a short, dark man 
 in blue uniform stepped aboard, and 
 having exchanged salutations with the 
 captain, took his place upon the bridge 
 and gave the order to ' Slack away 
 for'ard,' and as the shellbacks tramped 
 around the capstan aft, the Pandora 
 moved slowly away from the quay. 
 
 Then, after a great deal of shouting 
 — of paying out warps, and hauling them 
 in — of encroaching upon the kindness 
 of the captains of other vessels by ask- 
 ing them to ' make fast ' and ' let go,' 
 the Pa7idora reached the dockhead, 
 where she was slewed round, and a tug 
 caught hold of her hawser. 
 
 A small crowd of friends and relations 
 were here gathered together, anxious to 
 have a last look at those dear ones 
 who were going so far away, perhaps 
 never to return. Some were brave 
 enough to step aboard, and go down
 
 Good-bye to Englana. 155 
 
 as far as Gravesend, where the vessel 
 was to wait a couple of hours. But 
 others were detained by work or busi- 
 ness in London, and could not afford 
 to indulo^e their inclination. All had 
 time, however, while the Pandora slowly 
 crawled through the narrow entrance, 
 to whisper their last farewells — to implore 
 the travellers ' to be sure to write,' 
 and tell them all their news — to wish 
 them a prosperous voyage, and, above 
 all, to give them a warm grip of the 
 hand, or a parting kiss. 
 
 Ah ! these long uncertain partings are 
 very Death in Life. They have all the 
 agony of Death about them, and none 
 of its peace. They are the most cruel 
 trials this miserable world affords us ! 
 
 When the vessel was clear of the 
 docks, and had glided into the broad 
 river, the helm was put to starboard, and 
 her head pointed eastward — then the 
 hawser gradually ' taughtened ' as the 
 tug went ahead, and many of the pas-
 
 156 DiHven to Bay. 
 
 sengers, realising that they were really 
 ' off,' strained their eyes, brimming with 
 tears, towards the shore, and with a 
 choking sensation in their throats, waved 
 their handkerchiefs as a last farewell to 
 the friends they had left behind them. 
 But their emotion soon subsided as they 
 watched the lively scene spread out upon 
 all sides. It is those who stay at home 
 who feel parting most. The river was 
 alive with barges, which had taken ad- 
 vantage of the wind to stem the tide. 
 Large passenger steamers took their 
 way carefully amongst the smaller craft, 
 and channel and river boats plied 
 fussily backwards and forwards, with 
 groaning deckloads of gaily-dressed pleas- 
 ure seekers. 
 
 Large wooden ships lay moored to 
 the buoys, discharging blue casks of petro- 
 leum, and in their wake fruiters and 
 colliers were similarly employed. Trinity 
 boats, with their decks crowded with 
 red and white buoys, had made fast
 
 Good-bye to England. 157 
 
 under the shears, and innumerable tugs, 
 and ferryboats, and watermen were wait- 
 ing for something to 'turn up.' 
 
 At two o'clock Gravesend was reached, 
 where dozens of vessels had come to a 
 standstill, and half-an-hour afterwards the 
 Pandora was brought up and moored 
 to a buoy close to the red powder- 
 hulks, with her burgee flying at the 
 masthead. 
 
 The powder having been brought 
 alongside in lighters, laden with small 
 wooden tubs, a double line of men 
 was ranged from the port to the locker, 
 and the kegs quickly passed along. 
 
 Whilst the powder was being taken 
 in, a boat pulled by four men approached 
 the vessel. In her stern were seated 
 the coxswain, and another man who 
 was evidently a passenger. When she 
 reached the Pandora s side the gang- 
 way was lowered, and the mysterious 
 stranger who had chosen this late hour 
 to arrive, ascended the ladder.
 
 158 Driven to Bay. 
 
 He was a tall, dark man with curly 
 hair, and a heavy moustache, which 
 joined a pair of mutton-chop whiskers. 
 His face was much lined, and there was 
 a haggard look beneath his keen grey 
 eyes. He wore a soft felt slouch hat, 
 a black morning coat, and loose trousers. 
 His baggage apparently consisted of a 
 large portmanteau, which was carried up 
 by one of the sailors, and tumbled on 
 to the deck. 
 
 'What name?' inquired Mr Sparkes, 
 who waited at the head of the gang- 
 way to receive him. 
 
 ' I wish to see the captain,* was the 
 stranger's only answer. 
 
 ' You will find him on the bridge,' 
 said Richard Sparkes, and without 
 another word the new-comer hastily 
 mounted the companion, and confronted 
 the skipper. 
 
 ' Captain Robarts ? ' he inquired briefly. 
 
 ' The same, sir,' replied the captain. 
 * What is your business ? '
 
 Good-bye to England. 159 
 
 ' There is my card,' returned the other, 
 producing it. 
 
 * Oh, yes ! of course,' said Captain 
 Robarts, as he looked at the card ; ' very 
 pleased to see you, Mr Fowler, and if 
 you will ask the steward, he will show 
 you your berth.' 
 
 During this short colloquy, the pas- 
 sengers assembled on the deck eyed 
 the new - comer curiously, and many 
 were the speculations raised concerning 
 him. 
 
 ' Who can he be, Captain Lovell ? ' 
 asked Alice Leyton, who had become 
 quite friendly with the gentleman in 
 question. 
 
 ' I should say he had come to take 
 charge of the powder,' replied Lovell. 
 * He is evidently going to remain, as he 
 has brought his luggage.' 
 
 ' Perhaps he is (what Jack calls) a 
 supercargo,' suggested Alice. 
 
 ' No, Miss Leyton, they don't have 
 such things now-a-days, although the
 
 i6o Drive7i to Bay. 
 
 highly-favoured individual whom you call 
 ''Jack" may have told you so.' 
 
 'Jack is likely to know best, though, 
 all the same, because he is a sailor,' 
 cried Alice merrily. ' But do you really 
 think. Captain Lovell,' she continued, 
 opening her blue eyes, ' that there is 
 any danger from the gunpowder ? ' 
 
 ' Not unless the ship catches fire, and 
 then we should be blown to "smither- 
 eens." I daresay if we had any one on 
 board evilly disposed to the rest of us, 
 he could, with very little trouble, put 
 an end to our existence.' 
 
 ' But he would blow himself up at the 
 same time,' said Alice. 
 
 ' True ; but in such coinpmty,' replied 
 Lovell, looking ineffable things at her, 
 ' a fellow might even feel glad to be 
 blown up.' 
 
 ' Don't let us talk of such horrible 
 things, Captain Lovell, and when we 
 have not yet commenced the voyage. 
 Do you see that lady talking to the
 
 Good-bye to England. i6i 
 
 gentleman who is leaning against the 
 rail ? She is a Miss Vere. She is an 
 actress, and is going all through Australia 
 and New Zealand.' 
 
 ' By George ! Is that really Miss 
 Vere ? ' said Captain Lovell, putting up 
 his eyeglass. ' I really didn't recognise 
 her off the stage. She ought to be good 
 company. She's very clever.' 
 
 ' Don't you think she is very hand- 
 some .^ ' 
 
 * Perhaps. But she's not my style/ 
 replied the captain, glancing at Alice's 
 fair hair. 
 
 'Would you like to be introduced to 
 her ?'" continued the girl. 'I made her 
 acquaintance last night, and found her 
 most agreeable. Will you come with 
 me, and talk to her ? ' 
 
 ' Delighted to follow you anywhere,' 
 said Lovell gallantly, as he walked after 
 his lively companion. 
 
 Vernon Blythe, who was close at 
 hand, saw the little incident, and only 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 1 62 Driven to Bay. 
 
 smiled at it. He was not the man to 
 suspect any woman whom he professed 
 to love, without good cause. And when 
 he was assured of her infidelity to him, 
 he would be silent on the subject. He 
 might leave her, but his pride would 
 forbid him to complain because she 
 preferred another fellow to himself. But 
 he did not doubt at that moment that 
 Alice loved him, and, believing so, 
 he allowed her to do just as she 
 chose. 
 
 ' Miss Vere,' she exclaimed, as she 
 came up to the lady in question, ' may I 
 introduce one of our fellow-passengers to 
 you — Captain Lovell — who is longing to 
 make your acquaintance ? ' 
 
 Miss Vere bowed, and the two im- 
 mediately engaged in conversation. 
 
 Emily Vere was a high-class society 
 actress, who had appeared that season at a 
 leading London theatre, and taken the 
 town by storm. Now, she was going 
 oat to make the tour of Australia?
 
 Good-bye to England. i6 
 
 o 
 
 tempted thereto by exceptionally high 
 terms, and the promise of an efficient 
 company to support her on the other 
 side. In appearance, she was more 
 charming perhaps than handsome, but 
 her figure was perfect, and her manners 
 courteous and refined. She was one of 
 those artists who give the lie pointblank 
 to those libellers who say that virtue 
 does not exist upon the stage, and who 
 (if the truth were known) have not kept 
 their own lives nearly so clean as that 
 of many an actress. Miss Vere's char- 
 acter had never been attacked, except 
 by those who knew nothing about it. 
 She was essentially a lady, and one of 
 rather reserved and quiet habits than 
 otherwise. She was dressed plainly, but 
 in exquisite taste. Her grey cashmere 
 dress showed off each curve of her 
 beautiful figure, and seemed to cling lov- 
 ingly about her full bosom and slender 
 waist. Her long plush mantle was of 
 the same delicate tint, and a grey straw
 
 164 Driveii to Bay. 
 
 hat, trimmed with seagulls' wings, and 
 long grey chevrette gloves, completed her 
 costume. She smiled pleasantly as she 
 recognised her little acquaintance of the 
 night before, but did not evince any 
 especial emotion on being introduced to 
 Captain Lovell, which, for the moment, 
 rather staggered that hero. 
 
 ' So proud to know you,' he mur- 
 mured, as the introduction was effected ; 
 ' so charmed to meet one whom I, in com- 
 mon with all who have had the great 
 privilege of seeing her upon the stage, 
 cannot fail to admire.' 
 
 ' How long did it take you to get 
 that up ? ' asked Miss Vere quietly. 
 ' Seriously, Captain Lovell, I hope I am 
 going to be spared listening to empty 
 compliments for a while. I am so very 
 veiy tired of them, and I want to make 
 this voyage a time of rest for both mind 
 and body.' 
 
 * But I can assure you I had no in- 
 tention to flatter,' stammered Lovell.
 
 Good-bye to E7tgland. 165 
 
 ' Then you cannot know what your 
 intentions are, and consequently must 
 be a very dangerous acquaintance. He 
 can't get out of it any way, can he, 
 Miss Leyton ? ' 
 
 ' I think most people would find it 
 loss of time to cross swords with you, 
 Miss Vere,' said Alice. 
 
 ' Indeed I am a very peaceable per- 
 son by nature. But some things put 
 one on one's metal ; and you must under- 
 stand, Captain Lovell, that the last 
 person I care to talk about, is my- 
 self.' 
 
 * Which makes you so unlike other 
 women, that the first person we all 
 want to talk about is you. Ah ! Miss 
 Yere, you must not be so hard upon 
 me. I have seen you play at the 
 "Star" Theatre dozens of times, and 
 left my heart behind me on every occa- 
 sion.' 
 
 ' Dear me ! what a number of hearts 
 you must possess. You are quite a na-
 
 1 66 Driven to Bay. 
 
 tural curiosity. I hope you did not part 
 with your brains at the same time.' 
 
 'You think I have none to spare, I 
 suppose ? ' 
 
 ' Not quite that, but we shall want 
 all we can scrape together, to make 
 this long voyage pass pleasantly. Have 
 you mapped out any plan of employ- 
 ment for the next three months, Miss 
 Leyton ? ' 
 
 Alice blushed most becomingly. 
 
 ' I haven't thought of it yet. I sup- 
 pose when we shake down, we shall 
 have plenty of music and dancing, and — ' 
 
 'Flirtation,' continued Miss Vere. 
 
 'Well, a little of that, too, I suppose.' 
 
 'A great deal, I hope,' amended the 
 captain ; ' life would be worth very little 
 without it.' 
 
 ' Yes ! when it's legitimate, it's very 
 nice,' said Miss Vere ; ' but, for my part, 
 I mean to flirt with my books. I have 
 promised myself a long course of study 
 before we arrive at Lyttleton.'
 
 Good-bye to England. 167 
 
 ' Oh, look, Miss Vere,' cried Alice, 
 ' they are slipping the warp ! I believe 
 we are really going at last. Are we 
 off, Jack ? ' she asked excitedly of 
 Vernon Blythe, who passed them at that 
 moment. 
 
 He only gave her a nod and a smile 
 in answer, but the action did not pass 
 unperceived by Captain Lovell. How- 
 ever, he made no comment on it then. 
 
 ' It's about time we were off,' he 
 grumbled ; * they've been three hours 
 shipping those confounded kegs of gun- 
 powder.' 
 
 ' That are to blow us all up,' said 
 Alice merrily. 
 
 As the Pandora moved statelily down 
 the river, a cold wind began to blow 
 over the water, that drove the ladies to 
 the shelter of the saloon, and left the 
 gentlemen in possession of the deck 
 and the smoking-room. 
 
 Vernon Blythe had found time more 
 than once that day, in the midst of his
 
 i68 Driven to Bay. 
 
 active duties, to glance round the decks 
 in search of Miss Douglas, but he had 
 seen her nowhere, which, as they were 
 still in fresh water, seemed rather strange 
 to him. But perhaps she was very un- 
 happy at leaving home, and could not 
 trust herself in public. Godfrey Har- 
 land, on the other hand, had made 
 himself generally conspicuous by his 
 attentions to Mrs and Miss Vansittart, 
 and the more Jack saw of him, the 
 more he disliked him. His handsome 
 face was knitted into a frown even 
 now, as in the pursuit of his duty he 
 passed Harland leaning over the bul- 
 warks, and watching the lights of Graves- 
 end gradually receding from view, as 
 the vessel was towed towards the bend. 
 Could Vernon Blythe have read the 
 thoughts which were passing through 
 Harland's mind at that moment, he 
 would have pitied, as much as he despised 
 him. For no one is to be pitied more 
 than the man who casts an honest love
 
 Good-bye to England. 169 
 
 on one side, In order to pursue, with 
 unfettered hands, the phantom Fortune. 
 He was thinking then of Iris. He had 
 gained his object. The prize he had un- 
 lawfully striven for was in his hand. In 
 a few more hours, miles of water would 
 stretch between him and his domestic 
 cares and troubles. Yet he was not 
 elated with his good luck. His last 
 thoughts, as he saw his country fading 
 from his sight, were given to his deserted 
 home and wife. What would Iris do 
 when she found he did not return ? 
 Would she inform the police, and would 
 they trace him to the shipping office ? 
 What a fool he was not to have sailed 
 under another name ! He might have 
 thought of some excuse to satisfy the simple 
 Vansittarts, and put himself for ever out 
 of the clutches of his pursuers. But it 
 was too late to think of that now. Still 
 he did not believe it possible that Iris 
 would betray him. She had always been 
 an honest, generous, stout-hearted little
 
 170 Driven to Bay. 
 
 woman, and he had more faith in her than 
 in himself; but she was passionate and 
 determined, and others might advise her 
 to take the law into her own hand. How 
 could he possibly prevent such a cata- 
 strophe ? Bright thought ! The sea pilot 
 who had come aboard at Gravesend would 
 land at the Start. He would send a care- 
 fully-composed letter to his wife by him, 
 explaining that on account of being unable 
 to meet some heavy losses at the New- 
 castle Meeting, he had been compelled to 
 leave England, and finding Harfleur was 
 too near for him, was on his way to Spain, 
 under an assumed name, whence he in- 
 tended to get across to the Brazils, where 
 he had been promised employment. This 
 would put her off the idea (if she had any) 
 of applying to the police for his where- 
 abouts, and he could wind up his letter 
 with a few vague promises of sending her 
 money as soon as he landed in Brazil. 
 
 That would do capitally, and set his 
 mind completely at rest upon the matter.
 
 Good-bye to Ejtgland. 171 
 
 There was only one little flaw in the plan, 
 and that was a vision of the pale face of 
 the girl he had deserted, and which would 
 rise before him, becoming plainer and 
 plainer as the night fell. There is good 
 as well as evil in the lives of all of us, and 
 this was a STOod moment in the life of 
 Godfrey Harland. There was a time 
 when he had loved his young wife — with a 
 selfish and worthless affection, it is true, 
 but still the best his nature was capable of 
 conceiving ; and his conscience raked up 
 the remembrance of this affection, now, 
 with his own misdeeds. Again and again 
 did the thought of Iris come into his head, 
 until he felt almost remorseful. He tried 
 to drive the unwelcome memory away. 
 He left his position and paced the deck 
 with rapid steps, but his deserted wife 
 seemed to walk beside him. He lit a 
 cheroot and nearly choked himself with 
 its strong fumes ; still some one seemed 
 to whisper in his ear that he was com- 
 mitting a crime, — that he was a liar — a
 
 172 Driven to Bay. 
 
 coward — everything that was base and 
 cruel, — and that if Iris died of starvation 
 during his absence, or sold her honour in 
 exchange for bread, he would be worse — 
 the murderer of both her body and her 
 soul ! And then the same voice seemed 
 to tell him, as if by inspiration, that he 
 would never return to England, — that 
 some catastrophe would befall the ship 
 that carried him, — she would be blown up 
 by the pow^der, or lost at sea, and he was 
 leaving his wife and his creditors behind 
 him — -for ever. The thought made his 
 cheeks grow ghastly pale. It was a 
 warning — a prophecy ! Why should he 
 not save himself from its fulfilment ? 
 There was still time to do so. It was 
 nearly dark ; he could just make out the 
 green light at the end of Southend Pier. 
 The tide w^as low. Why not drop over- 
 board and swim ? The distance was not 
 a mile, and he was an excellent swimmer. 
 
 But no. He would be seen and picked 
 up, and treated on board as if he were a
 
 Good-bye to Engla^id. 173 
 
 lunatic. The Vanslttarts would not know 
 what to make of his conduct, and he 
 might lose all the influence he had gained 
 aver them. The game was too risky. 
 It would certainly not succeed. And if 
 it did, what would he go back to ? 
 Poverty, tears, coldness, and certain 
 arrest. Pshaw ! what a fool he was. 
 What had he been thinking of? His 
 good angel flew away, and a spirit of a 
 very different type took its place, and 
 Godfrev Harland was himself ao^ain. The 
 soft moment had passed, and it left him 
 harder than before. 
 
 * What have I to do with others ? ' he 
 thought, as he buttoned his coat across 
 his chest ; ' my business at present is to 
 look after number one. He wants enough 
 looking after, poor devil. Heaven knows ! 
 I am on the highroad to fortune. Let 
 me direct all my energies to seeing I keep 
 there. And if things go as I wish them, 
 why I'll turn my back on England for 
 evermore, and all my dear friends there
 
 174 
 
 Driven to Bay. 
 
 may whistle for me.' So having arrived 
 at this comfortable decision, Harland 
 crossed the quarter-deck, and, after swal- 
 lowing a stiff brandy-and-soda, joined the 
 other gentlemen at a game of poker.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A DISCOVERY. 
 
 ^^^^pHE Pandora was a full-rigged, 
 three-masted ship, built by the 
 famous firm of Oswald & Com- 
 pany, of Glasgow and Sunderland. Her 
 registered tonnage was 1500 tons. Her 
 hull, lower masts, topmasts, and lower 
 yards were built completely of iron, and 
 her standing rigging was composed of the 
 same material. She carried six sails on 
 her fore and mizen masts respectively, 
 and seven on her main. She had six 
 topsails, six topgallant sails, and a main 
 skipsail. She was a heavy ship to
 
 176 Drive7i to Bay. 
 
 work, as nearly all her running rigging 
 was of chain, or wire, except the hauling 
 part, and the larger ropes, such as the 
 topsail halliards that were of coir, and 
 brought forth many an expressive epithet 
 from the sailors, whose hands were often 
 sore after a night in the doldrums. The 
 beautiful rake of her lofty masts, the 
 delicate curve of her narrow beam, her 
 sharp, fish-like bows, and nicely-rounded 
 stern, gave her a stately appearance as 
 she rode on the waters, and suggested 
 exciting races in heavy squalls, and a fast 
 sea passage, with little pay to receive. 
 Yet she was not an exceedingly fast 
 ship. She had made the run in ninety 
 days, and her log had told sixteen knots ; 
 but, all the same, she was a clipper, and 
 if she had had an enterprising captain, 
 would have held her own with most ships, 
 and shown her heels to not a few. But 
 the commander of the Pandora did not 
 believe in *cracking-on,' and his vessel 
 had never had a chance of showing her
 
 A Discovery, 177 
 
 ability. As soon as a squall appeared 
 to windward, he clewed up his smaller 
 sails, and would not dream of bumping 
 with crowded sail into a head sea if the 
 least sign of danger attended him. In 
 this respect he was right, since his first 
 thought was ever for the safety of his 
 passengers and crew. 
 
 There is intense pleasure as well as 
 excitement in sailing with a jolly, straight- 
 forward, fearless man, who knows exactly 
 how much sail his vessel can carry till 
 the last minute, who drives through the 
 squalls, sending the seas dashing over his 
 weather bulwarks, and gushing through 
 his lee scuppers, shivering his leeches 
 when an extra gust bursts upon him, 
 glorying to watch the splendid behaviour 
 of his ship as she bends to his command. 
 But Captain Robarts was a very different 
 sort of man from this. 
 
 It had been the intention of the pilot 
 who had taken over charge of the Pandora 
 at Gravesend to have come to an anchor 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 178 Driven to Bay. 
 
 off Southend, but as the breeze chopped 
 round to the southward, and seemed Hkely 
 to remain for some time in that direction, 
 the vessel continued her course. The 
 fore and aft sails were run up, and the 
 topsails loosed, and before ten o'clock the 
 Nore Light was passed, and she was 
 towed out into the open sea. All that 
 night the two vessels pursued their journey 
 together, and early the next morning 
 brought up with a head-wind in the 
 Downs. Some of the passengers had 
 already succumbed to the long, steady 
 roll of the Pandora, as she swayed from 
 side to side, sometimes dipping her mar- 
 tingale deep into the swells, and rising 
 gracefully again before making another 
 plunge. The smell of the new paint and 
 varnish, the ' swash ' of the water as it 
 rushed against the sides of the ship, the 
 swinging of the trays and lamps that 
 were suspended to a brass rod, no less 
 than the long sweeping rock of their new 
 cradle, all combined to produce a queer
 
 . A Discovery. 179 
 
 sensation in their throats, which gave 
 them a difficulty in swallowing, and a 
 dizziness in their heads, which prevented 
 their walking about lest their unseaworthy 
 legs should bring them to the ground. 
 But the captain of the Pandora steadily 
 paced the weather side, heedless of the 
 groans of his unfortunate passengers, and 
 thinking only of the wind that had com- 
 pelled the pilot to drop the anchor in 
 that unlucky hour. Uneasily he moved 
 to and fro, occasionally giving vent to 
 an unmusical grunt, as his eyes roved 
 along the horizon, and over the South 
 Foreland and Walmer Castle. 
 
 Captain Robarts was a man of stunted 
 growth of much the same build as his 
 chief officer, but both broader and shorter. 
 His figure approached insignificance, and 
 his features were coarse and forbidding. 
 His hands, horny from manual^labour and 
 hairy and freckled from exposure, were 
 generally carried well down in the pockets 
 of his monkey-jacket, from which he
 
 i8o D^nven to Bay. 
 
 seldom extricated them. He was a good 
 navigator and a diligent officer, but he was 
 not a smart sailor. Had his duties 
 required activity, he would have failed in 
 fulfilling them, but as his sole work was 
 to prick out the chart and give his orders, 
 little fault could be found with him on 
 that score. In manner he was voted on 
 all sides to be a bear. He never 
 addressed his passengers except when 
 absolutely obliged to do so, confining his 
 conversation to the officers of the vessel ; 
 and if any lady or gentleman ventured to 
 ask him a question on the most ordinary 
 subject, his answer was generally con- 
 veyed by a low grunt, as he turned away 
 to the sacred precincts of the bridge, 
 where none but those on business were 
 allowed to follow him. 
 
 He professed to be a very religious 
 man, and was in the habit of sendingr the 
 steward round with a bundle of tracts for 
 distribution, in the hopes thereby of 
 counteracting the evil influence of flirta-
 
 A Discovery. i8i 
 
 tion and yellow-backed novels. He 
 objected strongly to the use of tobacco, 
 and, in fact, to every sort of indulgence in 
 ^vhich he took no pleasure himself. But 
 he was very partial to his glass of grog, 
 and a cask of choice pine-apple rum was 
 kept in the spirit-room expressly for his 
 use. Every evening before he turned in, 
 the steward brought the captain a glass 
 of his favourite mixture, and during stiff 
 gales and wintry nights he often drank a 
 little more than was good for him, as was 
 evidenced by a glowing blush at the end 
 of his nose. His orders were given in 
 an abrupt, gruff voice — indeed he was at 
 all times a man of few words, and often 
 directed the helmsman by the action of 
 his hands ; and at the dinner-table he sat 
 like a dummy in his chair of office, 
 leaving the steward to look after the 
 wants of the passengers. That afternoon 
 Captain Robarts continued his silent 
 constitutional until the dinner-bell rang, 
 and then dived below to take the edge
 
 1 82 D^dven to Bay. 
 
 off his appetite ; and while the saloon 
 dinner was going on, Vernon Blythe 
 took his station on the look-out. He 
 had not been there long before a 
 dilapidated figure staggered, with un- 
 certain footsteps, to the spare hencoops, 
 which were lashed on either side, and 
 mournfully sat down. It was the shade 
 of Harold Greenwood, but what a con- 
 trast to his debonnair appearance of the 
 morning. His face was ashen pale, and 
 the corners of his mouth drawn down. 
 There was a melancholy look about his 
 eyes, and his crimped hair, now straight 
 as a Skye terriers, hung down upon his 
 forehead. He wore his hat upon the back 
 of his head, and he had left his Malacca 
 cane below. One end of his watch-chain, 
 with the button-hook attached to it, 
 dangled in front of him, in place of his 
 eyeglass, which had been smashed when 
 the treacherous ship gave a heavy roll, 
 and threw him against the bulkhead, 
 and the pink silk handkerchief was fast
 
 A Discovery. i8 
 
 J 
 
 losing its festive appearance under its 
 frequent calls to duty to wipe its owner's 
 mouth. A smile crossed Jack's face as 
 he caught sight of the unhappy youth, 
 and approaching him, he said kindly, — 
 
 ' If you don't feel well, Mr Green- 
 wood, you had better go to the lee side 
 of the vessel. You mustn't stay here.' 
 
 * Oh! I'm quite w^ell, thank you. I'm 
 used to this sort of thing, don't you 
 know '^, ' replied Greenwood quickly. ' But 
 it's doosid hot in the saloon, and I feel 
 a little queer, don't you know ? It's that 
 new paint, and — ' 
 
 ' I quite understand,' said Blythe ; ' but 
 you'll soon get used to it.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I am used to it — have been all 
 my life — you know. But, I say, do you 
 think she will roll any more than she's 
 doing at present ? For it's really very 
 uncomfortable. I suppose the captain did 
 not expect to have had such bad weather 
 when he started.' 
 
 ' Bad weather !' exclaimed Jack, 'why.
 
 184 Driven to Bay, 
 
 my dear fellow, you don't know what 
 you're talking about. This is splendid 
 weather. A fresh head wind and a heavy 
 o^round swell ! We couldn't have had it 
 better if it had been made to order.' 
 
 ' Oh ! — I see,' groaned Mr Greenwood. 
 ' Well, if this is good weather, I hope it 
 won't get any better, that's all. I think 
 I will take your advice, Mr Blythe, and 
 go over to the lee side, if you will tell me 
 where it is.' 
 
 'Why, it's the other side, of course,' 
 replied Jack good-humouredly ; 'and I'd 
 put my head a little over the taffrail, 
 if I were you, and take a good look at 
 the fishes. I am sure you will feel the 
 better for it afterwards.' 
 
 ' Do you really '^ ' said Greenwood, with 
 open eyes. ' Well, you ought to know, 
 so I will try it. Not that I feel ill, Mr 
 Blythe, for I enjoy this sort of thing un- 
 commonly, only I think the other side 
 looks more comfortable than this. There's 
 so much wind here, it makes me quite
 
 A Discovery. 185 
 
 giddy.' And so, by dint of clutching the 
 pinrail of the mizen-mast, and making a 
 dart for the rigging, the unhappy youth 
 managed to reach the opposite coop in 
 safety. 
 
 When Jack turned his head again to 
 look at him, he saw that he had taken 
 his advice, and hung his head well over 
 the taffrail, where he appeared to be look- 
 ing for something in the water, with his 
 mouth wide open, and his eyes full of 
 tears. Jack laughed till the tears came 
 into his own, to see the little boastful 
 dandy thus hung out to dry. 
 
 In the second cabin and steerage the 
 passengers were suffering the same tor- 
 tures as their wealthier fellow-voyagers 
 in the saloon. They had not to contend 
 against the horrors of new paint and 
 varnish, for their bulkheads were built of 
 plain white wood, but their proximity to 
 the cargo in the lower hold and the 
 'tween-decks rendered the creaking and 
 groaning of the heavy merchandise very
 
 1 86 Driven to Bay. 
 
 audible, and rendered it difficult for them 
 to forget their troubles in sleep. Will 
 Farrell, who was not subject to mal-de- 
 77ter, was untiring in his endeavours to 
 help those who had succumbed to it. He 
 did not forget Maggie in the steerage, 
 and between 'chaffing' and feeding, he 
 soon managed to bring her round again. 
 The poor girl had been very ill at first, 
 but she was a stout-hearted little woman, 
 and when she heard that her mistress was 
 much worse than herself, and steadily re- 
 fused to take either medicine or food, she 
 made a strenuous effort to go to her as- 
 sistance, and she succeeded. She found 
 Iris nearly prostrate, and broken down 
 in mind and body. She was exhausted 
 by sickness, but had resolutely refused 
 to see the doctor, lest by some means he 
 might find out who she was. The fact 
 is, the poor child was quite ready to lie 
 down and die. She would have been 
 thankful not to get up again. There 
 seemed nothing left for her to live for.
 
 A Discovery. 187 
 
 The excitement of getting ready to follow 
 her husband was over. Nothing remained 
 now but a constant dread of detection, and 
 when the terrible sea-sickness came to try 
 her physical powers, all attempt at resist- 
 ance seemed to abandon her, and she 
 sunk under it. Maggie found her with 
 a stone-cold body, and a pulse at its 
 lowest ebb. The passengers were all 
 alarmed about her, but she had steadily 
 declined their proffered kindnesses, and, 
 above all, she would not let Dr Lennard 
 be informed of her condition. But when 
 Maggie saw her, she asked no one's 
 leave, but went to find him at once. As 
 she emerged from the cabin, with the 
 tears running down her cheeks, she met 
 Vernon Blythe. 
 
 ' Why ! what's the matter ? ' he in- 
 quired, with a true sailor's ready interest 
 in every woman, high or low. 
 
 ' Oh, please, sir ! can you tell me where 
 to find the doctor ? My poor, dear lady 
 is so ill.'
 
 1 88 Driven to Bay, 
 
 ' Your lady I Let me see. Are you 
 not the person who came on board with 
 Miss Douglas ?' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, and she is so bad with the 
 sickness. She's as cold as ice, and can 
 hardly move a limb. And I've been sick 
 myself till now, and ain't half right yet, or 
 I'd have fetched the doctor to her before. 
 But he must come now, sir, as quick as he 
 can, for the poor dear is just as bad as 
 she can be.' 
 
 ' I will fetch him for her at once ! ' ex- 
 claimed Jack, who had not forgotten his 
 strange interest in the mysterious second 
 class passenger. 
 
 In another minute he had unearthed 
 Dr Lennard from the smoking-room, 
 where he was playing chess with the 
 third officer, and carried him off to 
 his patient. As they entered the 
 cabin together, Maggie had disappeared 
 to take up her watch beside Iris's 
 berth. 
 
 'Which is Miss Douglas's berth?' in-
 
 A Discovery. 189 
 
 quired the doctor, addressing the assembled 
 company. 
 
 ' Number twelve,' replied Farrell eagerly. 
 
 ' This is it, doctor,' said Jack, as he un- 
 latched the door to let the medical officer 
 pass in. 
 
 Iris's berth was a lower one, facing the 
 entrance. As Jack opened the door, he 
 saw her plainly, lying back upon her pil- 
 lows, with closed eyes, and loosened hair ; 
 and as he saw her, he started violently, 
 and muttered something very like an oath 
 beneath his breath. 
 
 ' Hullo, Jack ! what's up ? ' exclaimed Dr 
 Lennard jestingly ; ' seen a ghost, eh 1 ' 
 
 ' Nothing, doctor, nothing,' he answered, 
 in a muffled voice ; 'that is the lady,' and 
 closing the cabin door hastily upon him, 
 he leant against it for a moment, to recover 
 himself. 
 
 At first his heart called out that he must 
 be mistaken — that it was only a chance 
 likeness he had seen lying on the pillows 
 within that door. But his reason told him
 
 IQO Driven to Bay, 
 
 he was not, and that there could not be 
 two faces in this world like the one that 
 had been enshrined in his heart ever since 
 he first beheld it. This then was the 
 reason of his strange interest in Miss 
 Douglas. His eyes had been too dull to 
 recognise her, but his instincts had been 
 stronger than his sight. 
 
 Dr Lennard might well ask him if he 
 had seen a ghost. How the good doctor 
 would * chaff' him if he told him he 
 had indeed seen the ghost of his early- 
 love — the memory of his life, sweet Iris 
 Hetherley. 
 
 As Vernon Blythe left the cabin to re- 
 turn to his duty, he staggered like a 
 drunken man.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT SEA. 
 
 EFORE noon on the following 
 day, the lighthouse at Dunge- 
 ness was sighted, and the Pan- 
 dora parted company with her towboat. 
 It was a joyous morning. A southerly 
 wind blew its warm breath across the 
 water, and filled the sails of the vessel. 
 It was just the wind that suited her, for 
 she could show off her powers far better 
 on a bowline than when running, and she 
 ploughed along with the freshening breeze 
 at thirteen knots an hour. Her sharp 
 stem cut through the swells, and made
 
 192 Driven to Bay. 
 
 the seething foam rush angrily from her, 
 leaving a long white streak of creamy 
 froth in her wake. Little spits flew over 
 the weather top-gallant-sail, as the bois- 
 terous waves dashed against her, and the 
 sea gushed through the lee scupper-holes, 
 oozed in at the ports, and ran in torrents 
 aft with the backward roll. Her large, 
 white canvas sails bulged out with the wind, 
 and made her sheets crack again, as they 
 hugged the belaying bits ; and the leeches, 
 stretched taut with the bowlines, trembled 
 convulsively when she came up to wind- 
 ward. 
 
 The Pandora was behaving beautifully, 
 and her passengers — who had mostly pulled 
 round after their severe shaking in the 
 Downs — all thought the movement delight- 
 ful. And the scene by which they were 
 surrounded added to their pleasurable 
 sensations. The gulls sailed in half-circles 
 about the vessel's wake, now and then 
 uttering hoarse cries as they dived after 
 and engaged in a battle-royal for some
 
 At Sea. 193 
 
 tempting morsel tossed overboard by the 
 black cook. The porpoises skimmed the 
 waves in frolicsome gambols — often leap- 
 ing straight out of the water, and falling 
 back upon their sides with a loud splash, 
 scaring the smaller fry, that fled in all 
 directions, as they chased each other over 
 the crested swells. The numerous vessels 
 that passed, too, showed themselves off to 
 advantage under such an inviting gale. 
 The heavily-rigged East Indiaman, with 
 her Lascar crew, homeward bound, after a 
 twelve months' voyage, followed by two 
 small tugs, in the hope that the breeze 
 would drop, and she would be obliged to 
 have recourse to their assistance ; the neat 
 little Madeira fruiter, with a cargo of 
 oranges and bananas, making all haste 
 to London to get rid of her perishable 
 freight ; the Newcastle steamer, that en- 
 veloped every craft that came near her in 
 clouds of smoke, and poured gallons of 
 water from her black sides ; the huge 
 ocean liner, that looked like an enormous 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 194 Driven to Bay. 
 
 floating hotel, and sent forth ominous 
 blasts as she altered her course to keep 
 clear of the sailing vessels ; the West 
 Indian barque, that was chartered to bring 
 home rum and sugar ; and the humble 
 collier, with her dusty cargo and begrimed 
 hull and sails ; these, and many others, 
 passed the Pandora on her outward 
 voyage, and kept her passengers interested 
 and amused. Mr Vansittart, with a storm- 
 cap strapped under his chin, and a pair of 
 field-glasses slung in a case behind his 
 back, was standing under the shelter of 
 the wheel-house, talking to his daughter 
 Grace, who looked rather paler than 
 when she stepped aboard, but declared she 
 felt quite well as long as she remained in 
 the fresh air. Godfrey Harland was in 
 close attendance on her, and she seemed 
 pleased by his proximity. He had quite 
 got over the ridiculous fit of self-reproach 
 which had attacked him off Southend, and 
 had nerved himself to go through every- 
 thing that might lie before him — even to
 
 At Sea. 195 
 
 marriage with Grace Vansittart, if she and 
 her parents consented to it. Mrs Ley ton, 
 too, was on deck for the first time, and sat 
 on the skylight, enveloped in a warm shawl, 
 whilst her little daughter Winifred (who 
 was still known as ' Baby ' ), a pretty child 
 of about three years old, ran about the 
 deck ; and Alice carried on a laughing 
 flirtation with Captain Lovell, which she 
 refused to relinquish for all the warning 
 looks she received from her mother. The 
 fact is, Alice was piqued. Her lawful 
 sweetheart, Jack Blythe, may have been 
 too busy to stay by her side, and attend to 
 her many little wants, and she was a 
 sensible girl, and did not expect him to 
 give up his duty for his pleasure ; still, he 
 might have spoken a word or two to her 
 occasionally in passing, or thrown a look 
 with a world of meaning in it. But though 
 he had smiled kindly at her when they 
 met in the morning, he had taken no notice 
 of her since, and Alice could not help 
 seeing that he was pre-occupied and
 
 196 Driven to Bay. 
 
 serious. What could be the matter with 
 him ? Surely he was never going to be 
 so stupid as to feel jealous of the little 
 attentions Captain Lovell showed her, and 
 which he himself had no time to pay ! If 
 that was to be the order of march at this 
 early stage of the proceedings, what would 
 Jack do before the voyage was over. 
 The very thought made Alice's only half- 
 subdued heart rebellious, and her smiles 
 became sweeter, and her laughter more 
 hilarious, than there was any need they 
 should be. 
 
 And, meantime, jealousy of her and 
 her doings was the very last thought 
 of Vernon Blythe. His mind was en- 
 tirely set upon Iris Harland, and he had 
 to drive her image, and the wild con- 
 jectures which the sight of her had 
 eliminated, by force away, in order to 
 fit himself for his duty. Where was 
 her husband ? What was she doing on 
 board the Pandora ? Why had she em- 
 barked under a false name ? And had
 
 A I Sea. 197 
 
 she recognised him when he recognised 
 her ? All these questions kept rushing 
 through his brain, and driving him half 
 crazy because he could not solve them. 
 He had tried to pump Dr Lennard, but 
 had derived little satisfaction from the 
 attempt. The doctor could not guess 
 the reason for his anxiety, and would 
 not have sympathised with it, probably, 
 if he had. He set down the young 
 man's queries to curiosity, and answered 
 them in a very common-place manner. 
 Miss Douglas was better, and would be 
 all right in a day or two. Did he not 
 consider her an unusually pretty woman ? 
 Well, she had good features, certainly, 
 but was too thin and pale for beauty, 
 and she was very silent. The doctor 
 didn't know if she was stupid or sulky, 
 but she did not appear very grateful for 
 the attentions shown her ; and the girl 
 from the steerage who was nursing her, 
 and seemed to be her friend, was twice 
 as interesting a person, in his eyes.
 
 198 Driven to Bay. 
 
 And so Vernon Blythe turned away 
 with the secret of his burning heart un- 
 told, and waited feverishly for the mo- 
 ment when he should see Iris again and 
 speak to her, although he could scarcely 
 trust himself to think of it. He had 
 borne the sting of his disappointment 
 for five long years, and he believed that 
 he was cured. He had never expected 
 to meet Iris Hetherley (the only name 
 by which he had known her) again. He 
 had thought he should, in due time, 
 marry Alice Leyton, and banish the last 
 memories of his first love for ever from 
 his heart. Yet here she was, and the 
 very knowledge that she was here had 
 the power to make the young sailor's 
 blood course like molten lava through 
 his veins, and set his head spinning like 
 a top. He knew that, in a few days at 
 latest, he must see her again ; but each 
 hour seemed to mark a day as it dragged 
 its weary length along. 
 
 Jack longed for a storm to arise, — for
 
 At Sea. 199 
 
 the vessel to be In danger, — for anything 
 to occur that should take him out of 
 himself, and make the time go faster. 
 But the clerk of the weather would not 
 listen to his prayer. The sky continued 
 to be gloriously blue ; the emerald waters 
 sparkled in the radiance of the sun ; the 
 white cliffs of dear Albion, with the green 
 fields beyond them, receded further and 
 further away ; the vessels of every nation, 
 which the English Channel bears upon 
 her bosom, became scattered and far be- 
 tween, and the Pandora stood out to the 
 open sea.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 COURTSHIP. 
 
 ITH a light wind and a flowing 
 sheet the Pandora, now more 
 than a fortnight out, moved 
 slowly through the water. Astern was 
 the island of Madeira, standing like a 
 huge rock in the sea, and various crafts 
 on the deep blue waters looked, in the 
 distance, like children's toys. Not a 
 cloud was to be seen. The sky was as 
 blue as the sea — the air mild and pure. 
 
 The sun had become so oppressive 
 that an awning was rigged over the after 
 part of the vessel, and the passengers,
 
 Courtship. 20 1 
 
 having quite recovered their sea legs, 
 were reclininor on chairs and couches 
 under its welcome shade. The occupiers 
 of the second cabin were resting on the 
 quarter - deck, sheltered by the cutters, 
 which were kept in the chocks on the 
 after-skids. Everything seemed peaceful 
 and quiet aboard. A merry laugh from 
 the girls, or the plaintive bleating of the 
 sheep being the only sounds that broke 
 the silence. 
 
 It was Vernon Blythe's watch on deck, 
 and his men were employed aloft setting 
 up the topmast and topgallant rigging. 
 There was but little work for the officer 
 to do. Occasionally his services were 
 required to serve out marline, amberline, 
 and different stores, but that did not 
 occur often, and left him far too much 
 time for thought and speculation. Why 
 did not Iris Hetherley appear amongst 
 the other passengers on the quarter-deck ? 
 His wistful eye kept roving there every 
 second minute in the hope of seeing her,
 
 202 Driven to Bay. 
 
 but she did not come. What could be the 
 reason of her enforced seclusion ? Ver- 
 non had attempted to see her twenty 
 times in the last fortnight without suc- 
 cess. For a week she had kept her 
 berth, and when she left it, she seemed 
 never to be in the cabin when the 
 second officer entered it. Maggie had 
 answered his numerous inquiries respect- 
 ing her mistress more than once, and 
 always blushed and stammered so much 
 over the operation, that Jack suspected 
 she had been cautioned not to enlighten 
 him. Which indeed was the case ; for 
 Iris had confided the fact of her former 
 acquaintanceship with him to her humble 
 friend, and had prayed the girl to warn 
 her whenever he entered the cabin, so 
 that she might escape to the shelter of 
 her berth. Maggie had remonstrated 
 with her 'pretty ' on the absurdity of the 
 proceeding. 
 
 ' You must meet the gentleman sooner 
 or later, you know, mistress, so what's
 
 Courtship. 203 
 
 the good of dodging him. And if he 
 was a friend of yours, why should you 
 dodge him ? You say he don't know 
 that villain up in the saloon, and if he 
 did, he wouldn't betray you if you asked 
 him not. Is it likely ? And maybe he'll 
 help you, and be good company on this 
 long voyage, and stand your friend on 
 the other side, where you'll want one, 
 poor lamb, God knows ! Now, mistress 
 dear, do be wise, and meet the gentle- 
 man with a handshake next time he 
 comes in, and then you'll feel as you 
 have one person at least aboard, who 
 takes an interest in you.' 
 
 But Iris would not accept the advice 
 offered her. Perhaps she was not quite so 
 certain as Maggie seemed to be of Jack's 
 claim to be trusted. Perhaps she dreaded 
 the questions he might put to her — or cer- 
 tain tender memories connected with her 
 former rejection of his suit, combined 
 with the miserable disappointment of her 
 married life, warned her that a renewal
 
 204 Driven to Bay. 
 
 of friendship between them might prove a 
 dangerous solace under her present circum- 
 stances. Any way, she studiously avoided 
 him, even to the length of refusing to take 
 any fresh air on deck; and Vernon Blythe's 
 heart grew heavier and heavier under the 
 daily disappointment of meeting her. It was 
 not, however, for want of distraction that he 
 brooded over the memory of his first love, for 
 all the girls aboard ship showed their will- 
 ingness to talk to, and even flirt with him. 
 
 As he walked to one end of the poop 
 now, to take a look out, Grace Vansittart 
 tried to detain him. 
 
 ' Mr Blythe,' she said, ' can you tell 
 me what that vessel that is so near the 
 land is doinor ? ' 
 
 Vernon fetched the glass from the pilot- 
 house, and leaning it against the for'ard 
 mizen shroud, gazed for some moments 
 at the vessel. 
 
 ' She is flat aback,' he answered, as he 
 finished his survey, * and I think will 
 have some difficulty in getting away.'
 
 Courtship. 205 
 
 ' But why ? She has the same wind 
 that w^e have.' 
 
 ' Not exactly. She Is close under the 
 land, where it is calm.' 
 
 ' How nice it must be,' remarked Grace 
 admiringly, * to know everything.' 
 
 She was looking very attractive that 
 day, dressed in a costume of blue serge, 
 that toned down the fulness of her out- 
 lines, with a broad leather belt encircling 
 her waist, and a wide straw hat, trimmed 
 with corn and poppies, sheltering her 
 fresh young face. Had Vernon Blythe 
 been heart whole, he might have fallen 
 a victim to the fascinations of this hand- 
 some girl, who was looking at him ver)' 
 encouragingly out of her large brown eyes, 
 and doing her level best to engage him in 
 a conversation. But Grace Vansittart's 
 charms would have held no danger for 
 him, even if Iris Harland's proximity were 
 not rendering him fireproof. He was en- 
 gaged — not formally, indeed, but still by 
 mutual consent — to Alice Leyton, and no
 
 2o6 Driven to Bay. 
 
 temptation would have induced him to abro- 
 gate his rights. Not that Ah'ce had made 
 many demands upon his attentions lately ; 
 on the contrary, she rather ignored the 
 fact of the tie between them, and generally 
 kept away at the other side of the deck 
 when they occupied it at the same time. 
 But Jack was not sufficiently in love with 
 her to resent the action. On the contrary, 
 he thought it displayed a becoming reti- 
 cence on her part, which he had often 
 wished she possessed before. And so he 
 contented himself with shaking her hand 
 when they met in public, and kept all his 
 loverlike confidences for the very rare 
 occasions when they encountered each 
 other alone. Alice had no reason, how- 
 ever, to be ashamed of \i^x: Jiancd, who was 
 one of the smartest young officers in the 
 merchant service, and a pattern to the 
 majority of his mates, who seem to ima- 
 gine that neatness and cleanliness form no 
 part of their duty whilst on shore. 
 
 He was always well and smartly dressed.
 
 Courtship. 207 
 
 His uniform showed traces of careful 
 handling, and his peaked cap, with its 
 gaily-embroidered badge, evidently re- 
 ceived due attention from the clothes- 
 brush. His boots shone with blacking, 
 and his golden-flecked head was as per- 
 fectly groomed as if he were about to 
 stroll through Hyde Park. Though, truth 
 to say, you might have covered Jack 
 Blythe with mud, and ducked him in a 
 horse - pond, and he would still have 
 emerged looking like a gentleman. It 
 was this trait, as much as his beauty, that 
 attracted the other sex to him. Women 
 detest a slovenly man. Miss Vansittart's 
 evident liking for the young officer was 
 viewed with jealous alarm by Godfrey 
 Harlan d. He had not forgotten his cause- 
 less grudge against Blythe, and he was 
 determined he should not take the wind 
 out of his sails now. 
 
 ' What do you want to talk to that 
 fellow for. Miss Vansittart ? ' he asked, as 
 Jack was called away to the main hatch.
 
 2o8 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' Why should I not ? ' inquired Grace. 
 ' Do you disHke him, Mr Harland ? I 
 think he is such a very pleasant young man/ 
 
 ^ Pleasant young man!' sneered Har- 
 land. ' Do you suppose, Miss Vansittart, 
 for an instant that any of these fellows 
 are gentlemen ? Why, they have all risen 
 from common seamen.' 
 
 ' I am sure Mr Blythe is a gentleman,' 
 retorted Grace warmly. 
 
 ' Then I suppose you call Mr Coffin 
 and the old skipper gentlemen ? They 
 have quite as much right to the title as 
 young Blythe.' 
 
 ' I don't agree with you,' said Grace; ' I 
 know a gentleman when I speak to him, 
 Mr Harland ; and so long as my parents 
 raise no objection to it, I shall continue 
 my acquaintanceship with Mr Blythe.' 
 
 This answer nettled and alarmed God- 
 frey Harland. He had been on such 
 friendly terms with the heiress hitherto, 
 that he was jealous of the influence exer- 
 cised over her by the second officer.
 
 Coiii'tsJiip. 209 
 
 Had he dared, he would have said any- 
 thing to lower his rival in her estimation, 
 but he was sharp enough to see that 
 such a course would only injure his own 
 cause. So he turned his attention to 
 patching up the slight breach between 
 them instead. 
 
 ' My dear Miss Vansittart,' he com- 
 menced, ' you must forgive me if I have 
 spoken too strongly on the subject. You 
 know how miserable it makes me to hear 
 you speak in praise of any other fellow, 
 and will excuse my transient ill-humiour 
 for the sake of its cause.' 
 
 He had never said so much to her 
 before, and he waited rather nervously 
 for her reply. He had not intended to 
 give her an intimation even of his wishes 
 until he was safe in New Zealand, and 
 had had an opportunity of sounding her 
 father's mind upon the subject. But if 
 other people were going to intrude their 
 officious attentions upon her, it would be 
 as well perhaps to let her have some 
 VOL. I. o
 
 2 1 o Driven to Bay. 
 
 inkling of his preference. And Grace 
 Vansittart did not resent it. 
 
 With the quickness with which some 
 young ladies recognise a would-be suitor, 
 she had already seen (or thought she saw) 
 that Harland had a fancy for her, and 
 was not displeased with the idea. Her 
 superior education had had the usual 
 effect. It had opened her eyes to the 
 inferiority of her parents, and infused a 
 desire to rise above them. Beyond all 
 things, she was determined to marry a 
 ' swell! She set her face resolutely against 
 all stock-riders, or sheep-farmers, or bush 
 gentlemen whatever. She wanted to marry 
 some one who would take her back to Eng- 
 land to settle, and Mr Harland was the very 
 man to suit her. She thought him very 
 good-looking (which undoubtedly he was), 
 and perfect in his manner of address, and 
 was ready to credit him, in addition, with 
 all the minor virtues which are supposed 
 to make the happiness of a married life. 
 So when he spoke so meaningly to her
 
 Courtship. 2 1 1 
 
 concerning his jealousy of Vernon Blythe, 
 she did not affect ignorance of his mean- 
 ing, but took his excuse as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 ' Well, I am glad you are penitent, at 
 all events,' she answered gaily, ' for you 
 have no real cause for ill-humour. You 
 must be a terrible tyrant, if you forbid 
 your friends talking to any one but your- 
 self.' 
 
 * Ah ! my friends can do as they choose, ' 
 he said significantly, 'it is onXy you whom 
 I would guard from all evil, as a miser 
 guards his treasure. But perhaps you 
 will be angry to hear me say so.' 
 
 ' Well, I don't think you have any 
 right to speak to me in that way, Mr 
 Harland,' replied Grace, looking down. 
 
 ' Give me the right, then, Grace,' he 
 whispered, bending over her chair. * Let 
 me feel that when you are even speaking 
 to others you are thinking of me, and I 
 will cast all my wretched jealousy from 
 me like some unholy thing.'
 
 2 1 2 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr Harland, how can I ? Re- 
 member how short a time we have known 
 each other. Barely six weeks.' 
 
 ^ It has been long enough to bind me 
 to you for ever.' 
 
 ' But I am not of age, you know. I 
 have no power to decide such a question 
 for myself. My father is the proper 
 person to speak to about it. And I 
 feel sure — quite sure — that he would say 
 it is a great deal too soon.' 
 
 ' Then, don't speak to him just yet, 
 Grace. Let us keep our little secret till 
 we get to Tabbakooloo. Only tell me 
 one thing — that if Mr and Mrs Van- 
 slttart give their consent to it, you will 
 be my wife.' 
 
 Grace blushed very becomingly as she 
 answered in the affirmative. 
 
 ' Only, Mr Harland, I must make one 
 condition — ' 
 
 'Oh, don't call me *' Mr Harland." 
 Say '' Godfrey," that I may feel you 
 really look upon me as your own property. '
 
 Courtship. 213 
 
 ' Godfrey, then. You must promise 
 me, in case of papa's consenting to — 
 you know what — that you will not settle 
 in New Zealand, but take me back to 
 live in London. I am wretched at 
 leaving it. I have not seen nearly 
 enough of its sights or its pleasures, 
 and the very idea of spending my life 
 at the Antipodes is distasteful to me. I 
 know that you, too, like society, and 
 theatres, and all the rest of the amuse- 
 ments in dear, delightful old London. 
 Promise to take me back to them, won't 
 you ? or else I really cannot — ' 
 
 ' Don't finish the sentence, for Heaven's 
 sake ! ' cried Harland. ' I will promise 
 anything and everything you exact from 
 me, if you will agree in return to give 
 me the opportunity to fulfil my promises.' 
 
 Of course the idea of his returning to 
 England, where he had another wife and 
 scores of creditors waiting for him, was 
 utterly ridiculous ; but it was impossible 
 to tell her so at that moment. Let him
 
 2 1 4 Driven to Bay. 
 
 once be her husband (or appear to be 
 so), and he could find a dozen excuses 
 for breaking his word. But he must 
 snare the bird before he plucked it. 
 
 ' Yes ! I promise, if my father and 
 mother will permit me to do so,' replied 
 Grace Vansittart, as he took her hand 
 in his. 
 
 ' And if they refuse, my darling, will 
 you have the heart to give me up "^ ' he 
 whispered. 
 
 ' Let us wait and see,' said Grace. 
 ' It will be two months and a-half yet 
 before we reach our destination.' 
 
 ' How can I ever wait till then ! ' ex- 
 claimed the enraptured lover, who knew 
 that delay was the very thing he wished 
 for. 
 
 This little episode happened when they 
 were sitting almost alone upon the poop, 
 and believed themselves to be unnoticed. 
 But Mrs Vansittart, sitting in her cane- 
 backed chair, and nodding with the heat 
 over her basket of knitting wools, was
 
 Courtship. 215 
 
 not so fast asleep but that she started 
 up every now and then, and in one of 
 her starts she opened her eyes upon 
 Godfrey Harland holding Grace's hand 
 in his. The simple old lady had never 
 ' cottoned ' to this adventurer as her 
 husband and daughter had. She was 
 affable to him, but she had a slight 
 distrust of him — just sufficient to make 
 her wide awake where her only child 
 was concerned. But she did not say 
 anything to Grace. Whenever it came 
 to finding fault, she was just a wee 
 bit afraid of the educated young lady 
 who knew so much more than herself. 
 But when the dinner was over that day, 
 and the passengers were again on deck, 
 enjoying the evening breeze, Mrs Van- 
 sittart called her husband to her side on 
 one of the saloon sofas. 
 
 * Stay with me for a minute, John,' 
 she said, ' for I want to speak to you 
 on a matter of importance.'
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 ELL, old lady,' commenced Mr 
 Vansittart facetiously, * and 
 what is it ? I hope the skip- 
 per ain't been taking liberties with you, 
 nor nothing of that sort.' 
 
 * Oh, now, John ! do stop your nonsense, 
 when you know well I've been your mar- 
 ried wife for five - and - twenty years, 
 and no man ever dared take a liberty 
 with me yet.' 
 
 * Come, come ! you're forgetting,' re- 
 plied her husband. ' Didn't I catch you
 
 Remonstrance. 2 1 7 
 
 once in our parlour at Tabbakooloo with 
 Charlie Monro's head in your lap, and 
 you kissing his hair ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, go along with you, John ! You 
 know the poor lad had just lost his mother, 
 and come to tell me so. And that re- 
 minds me how often I've thought and 
 wished that our Grace and Charlie might 
 come together by-and-by, and make a 
 match of it.' 
 
 ' That will never be,' said Mr Van- 
 sittart. ' Charlie's too rough for Grace. 
 You forget what a lady our girl has 
 grown.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, I don't, John ; and sometimes 
 I almost wish we'd kept her alongside 
 of us. But that's not to the purpose. I 
 don't want her to choose in a hurry, and 
 I'm afraid she's getting on a little bit too 
 fast with that Mr Harland.' 
 
 * Why, what makes you think that ? ' 
 
 ' I was watching them together on deck 
 this afternoon, and I saw him take her 
 hand. John, did you hear anything
 
 2i8 Driven to Bay. 
 
 more about Mr Harland's family and ante- 
 cedents before we left England ? ' 
 
 * No, my dear, I hadn't the opportunity/ 
 ' I never quite liked him,' sighed the 
 
 mother; ' he has such sly eyes.' 
 
 ' Oh, come ! that's a very foolish reason. 
 You mustn't judge of a man by his eyes. 
 His actions is all we need go by.' 
 
 ' Has he ever spoken to you about our 
 Grace, John ? ' 
 
 * No, nothing particular. But I can see 
 he admires her. Why should you object 
 to it ? He seems a smart fellow, and he's 
 a thorough gentleman. Of course the 
 rhino's the trouble, but he's very frank 
 about that, and we've got more than we 
 know what to do with, so it would be hard 
 if our only child shouldn't suit her own 
 taste with a husband.' 
 
 * Oh, John, don't talk as if it was a 
 settled thing. Don't let it go on. Tell 
 Grace it's too soon to let Mr Harland get 
 so intimate. I don't know why, but I've 
 such a feeling against it — as if it would
 
 Remonstrance. 2 1 9 
 
 be the cause of some great trouble. And 
 I did so want her to take a fancy to Charlie 
 Monro.' 
 
 ' Ah ! that's at the bottom of it all, old 
 lady. You've taken to match-making in 
 your old age. Now, look here, take my 
 advice, and leave the young people to settle 
 the matter for themselves. You wouldn't 
 have listened to your mother if she had 
 told you to chuck me overboard and take 
 another man.' 
 
 ' But I had known you, John, for years ; 
 and how long is it since you met Mr Har- 
 land ? ' 
 
 ' Not more than six weeks or so. We 
 know nothing about him at all. And 
 we don't need as yet, wife. There's 
 plenty of time before us. Grace don't 
 want to marry him to-morrow, I sup- 
 pose ? ' 
 
 ' H eaven forbid ! ' 
 
 ' Well, I can't understand your taking 
 such a sudden prejudice against the 
 young fellow. I think you must be jeal-
 
 2 20 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ous of losing your daughter. After all, 
 what has he done ? Held her hand ! 
 Lord ! I'd be sorry to have to marry 
 all the o^irls whose hands I've held!' 
 ' It don't look well though, John.' 
 ' Then tell your daughter it don't look 
 well, and she'll keep out of your way 
 next time she does it. Now, don't you 
 fret about nothing. I can't see any ob- 
 jection to it, if the young people do 
 fancy each other. Harland is a man 
 of good birth and breeding, and will 
 suit Grace a deal better than Charlie 
 Monro.' 
 
 ' Then you won't speak to her, John ? * 
 ' No, my dear. You can do as you 
 like about it, but I don't care to put my 
 finger between the fire and the wood. 
 If the young man was objectionable 
 to me, he wouldn't be here. I sha'n't 
 take any notice of the affair until he 
 asks my consent.' 
 
 ' And you will give it, John ?' 
 
 * Yes ! I guess I shall give it, con-
 
 Rononstrance. 2 2 1 
 
 ditionally. He must see his way to 
 making an income, of course, before he 
 can marry a wife. But we're in no 
 hurry to part with Grace, and a very 
 small certainty will satisfy me. All I 
 think of is the girl's happiness.' 
 
 * That's just what I'm thinking of 
 too,' sighed his wife. 
 
 * Well, mother, then we're of one 
 mind as usual. But I've promised to 
 join the gentleman in a game of poker, 
 so I must leave you. Now, don't sit 
 here by yourself, fretting for nothing.' 
 
 'John, does Mr Harland play high?' 
 demanded Mrs Vansittart anxiously. 
 
 ' Terrible high,' replied her husband, 
 laughing. * Farthing points, and gener- 
 ally loses them. I won tenpence three 
 farthings off him last night. Oh ! he's an 
 inveterate gambler. You may take my 
 word for that.' And chuckling over 
 his own sarcasm, he went off to the 
 smoking-room. 
 
 Mrs Vansittart, seeing it was of no
 
 2 22 Driven to Bay. 
 
 use to speak to her husband on the 
 subject, resolved to take the first oppor- 
 tunity to broach it with her daughter. 
 She was a simple soul, and she felt 
 nervous at the idea of offending Grace ; 
 but she was a fond mother, and, like 
 the timid ewe, could fight to defend her 
 young. But the opportunity did not occur 
 for some days. Then Grace, happening 
 to have lingered too long in the sun, 
 contracted a violent headache, and came 
 to her mother's cabin to lie down, and 
 be petted and made much of. And whilst 
 Mrs Vansittart was bathing her daughter's 
 forehead with eau-de-Cologne, and fan- 
 ning it to soothe the pain, she ventured 
 to allude to the subject which occupied 
 her mind. 
 
 * You shouldn't stand in the sun, my 
 dear, when there's an awning to sit 
 under. You'll get fever if you don't take 
 care. Whatever made you so careless .-^ ' 
 
 * I don't know, mamma. I was talking, 
 and didn't feel how hot it was.'
 
 Remonstrance. 223 
 
 ' Who were you talking to — Mr Har- 
 land ? ' 
 ' Yes.' 
 ' And what were you talking of ? ' 
 
 * How can I remember,' replied Grace, 
 colouring ; ' a dozen different things.' 
 
 * A dozen different things don't matter,' 
 said Mrs Vansittart oracularly. ' It's one 
 thing I wouldn't let Mr Harland speak of, 
 if I was you, Grace, my dear.' 
 
 ' And what is that ? ' asked the girl, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 ' Marriage.' 
 
 ' Why not, mother ? Why shouldn't he 
 speak of it as well as any other man ? ' 
 
 ' Because I don't think he'd make a 
 good husband.' 
 
 ' What right have you to say so '^, cried 
 Grace, starting up. ' What has he done 
 to make you distrust him ? Papa and he 
 are such close friends ; and if papa had 
 not considered Mr Harland to be good and 
 trustworthy, would he have asked him to 
 accompany us to New Zealand 1'
 
 2 24 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ' Ah, your papa and me don't always 
 think alike, my dear, although, I am 
 thankful to say, a difference of opinion 
 doesn't make us quarrel. And men are 
 blinder than women in such matters. 
 They judge by the outside, but we have 
 our instincts.' 
 
 ' Do you want to set me against Mr 
 Harland ? ' exclaimed Grace, with flash- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 ' Do you like him so much, then, my 
 dear ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; that is to say. of course we all 
 like him. Who could help doing so, when 
 he is so agreeable and good-looking ? ' 
 
 * And he has told you that he likes 
 you ? ' 
 
 Grace lay down on the pillow again, 
 and turned her face slightly away. 
 
 ' Don't be afraid of me, my dear girl/ 
 continued Mrs Vansittart ; * I shan't scold 
 you, whatever may have happened. Is 
 it a settled thing between you and this 
 gentleman ? '
 
 Remonstrance, 225 
 
 * Contingent on your consent and papa's,' 
 replied Grace. 
 
 * You mean if we say yes^ corrected 
 her mother, who was rather puzzled by 
 the word ' contingent.' 
 
 ' Just so, mamma. Mr Harland has 
 asked me to marry him, and I have con- 
 sented, provided you and papa have no 
 objections to make to it.' 
 
 Mrs Vansittart began to cry. 
 
 * Oh, my dear ! it's terrible quick. 
 Why couldn't you have waited till we 
 got home to Tabbakooloo '^, There are 
 so many nice young fellows about there, 
 and you'd have had a much better choice.' 
 
 * I don't want to choose. I'm quite 
 satisfied with Mr Harland,' said Grace 
 pettishly. ' And why are you crying, 
 mamma .'^ What has he done '^ Really, 
 it's quite alarming to see you go on in 
 this way.' 
 
 * Oh, Grace, my darling girl ! don't 
 ^v^^ him a final answer yet. Wait a 
 little longer,' sobbed the old lady. ' I 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 2 26 Driven to Bay. 
 
 can't give you any reason, but I've a 
 notion it won't turn out well.' 
 
 ' But this is nonsense,' replied her 
 daughter, from the heights of her superior 
 wisdom. * If you have any reasonable 
 objection to Mr Harland, mother, tell me 
 what it is, and I will endeavour to fall 
 in with your wishes. But don't condemn 
 him for a chimera.' 
 
 * A what, my dear ? ' said Mrs Vansit- 
 tart, opening her eyes. ' I never heard 
 of such a thing. But he hasn't no money. 
 You must allow that. He says so him- 
 self. ' 
 
 * I know he is in difficulties at present, 
 but a year or so will clear them all off. 
 And the most fashionable people get into 
 difficulties sometimes, mamma, and have 
 to mortgage their estates and let their 
 houses. You have only to hear Mr Har- 
 land talk, to know what splendid circum- 
 stances he has been in. Besides, papa 
 has always told me that the want of 
 money need never influence my choice
 
 Remonstrance . 227 
 
 of a husband, because he has plenty for 
 us all; 
 
 * You have made up your mind, then, 
 to marry this Mr Harland, Grace ? ' 
 
 * Yes, mamma, if papa and you give 
 your consent/ 
 
 ' Oh, my dear child, I'd consent to 
 anything for your happiness. Only — 
 will he make you happy ? ' 
 
 ' I think so,' replied Grace. 
 
 There was nothing more to be said, 
 then — at least so Mrs Vansittart thought, 
 as she returned, with a deep sigh, to her 
 former occupation of bathing Grace's fore- 
 head with eau-de-Cologne. 
 
 Whilst this little scene was being en- 
 acted in the stern cabin, Vernon Blythe 
 was on deck, standing by the taffrail, 
 and looking expectantly towards the com- 
 panion-ladder. It was his first watch 
 that night from eight to twelve. Mr 
 Coffin had turned in, and the passengers 
 were amusing themselves with music in 
 the saloon, and cards in the house amid-
 
 2 28 Driven to Bay. 
 
 ships. Suddenly Jack saw a pretty head, 
 all covered with curls, appear at the top 
 of the ladder, and in another moment 
 Alice Leyton stood by his side. They 
 were alone, but she did not hold up her 
 face to be kissed as they drew near 
 each other. She seemed to have been 
 somewhat infected by Vernon's low spirits 
 the last few days, for she had certainly 
 been less talkative and merry than usual. 
 
 ' Well, Jack/ she said, as they came 
 within hailing distance, ' I thought it was 
 about time I came and looked after you. 
 They are so dull in the saloon. Almost 
 everybody is reading, and all the gentle- 
 men have deserted us for those horrid 
 cards. And you must feel it stupid up 
 here too. Let us try and enliven each 
 other.' 
 
 ' Do you know,' replied Jack, ' that it is 
 my watch, and you are not supposed to 
 speak to the officer on duty. Miss Alice .'^' 
 
 ' Bother your watch!' she retorted. ' As 
 long as I do not interfere with your duty,
 
 Remonstrance. 229 
 
 the captain will not object. Mr Coffin 
 was telling me yesterday that there is no 
 rule about it.' 
 
 * So you have been trying your hand 
 upon poor old Coffin now, have you ? 
 What a dreadful flirt you are. You'd 
 coquet with your own shadow, sooner than 
 with nothing at all.' 
 
 ' Would I '^ ' cried Alice. * Not if it had 
 a petticoat on. That's all you know about 
 it, Jack. But what's the matter with you. 
 You've not been half yourself lately. 
 Mother says she hasn't heard you laugh 
 since we came aboard.' 
 
 ' Too much to think of,' replied Jack ; ' I 
 have no time to laugh now.' 
 
 * Too much to think of, you old humbug ! ' 
 laughed Alice. ' Why, on a night like this, 
 there is no work at all to do. That's 
 why I have inflicted my company on you. 
 I was afraid you might go to sleep at 
 your post.' 
 
 ' There's no fear of going to sleep 
 where you are, Alice, and as long as we
 
 230 Driven to Bay. 
 
 don't get a shift of wind, I hope you 
 will stay here, and cheer me on my lonely 
 watch.' 
 
 ' Well, it strikes me you want cheering, 
 Jack. Your face is as long- as a hatchet. 
 Is it anything that Fve done?' inquired 
 Alice, with a guilty fear that he would 
 answer in the affirmative. But he didn't. 
 
 ' You!' he exclaimed, reddening in the 
 moonlight. * Oh, dear, no ! What have 
 you been doing ? Anything naughty ? 
 Because, if that's the case, you had better 
 make a clean breast of it at once, and 
 receive my absolution before you go to 
 sleep.' 
 
 ' You're quite sure you would give me 
 absolution ? ' she said saucily. 
 
 ' I think so. Why not ? It's better 
 than quarrelling with you, and it saves a 
 lot of trouble. Only I must hear what 
 you have been guilty of, before I can 
 decide the amount of absolution you re- 
 quire, and whether it can be conveyed by 
 one kiss or half-a-dozen.'
 
 Remonstrance, 2 3 1 
 
 ' Jack,' said Alice, pouting, ' I don't 
 believe you love me one bit ! ' 
 
 She was becoming fast aware that she 
 didn't care for him, and yet she would not 
 willingly have given him up to any other 
 woman. Dop-s in the manner are nowhere 
 in comparison with the fair sex. They 
 may be utterly sick of a man's attentions, 
 and wish never to receive them again, but 
 they would endure them to the extent of 
 martyrdom sooner than see them trans- 
 ferred to a rival. Their vanity cannot 
 brook the idea of being forgotten. 
 
 * What can I do or say to 77take you 
 believe it ? ' returned Jack. ' I suppose 
 you say that because I have so little time 
 to devote to you now. But you know that 
 I would lie all day long at your feet, if I 
 had not these confounded watches to 
 keep.' 
 
 * But you never say anything nice when 
 we do meet,' continued Alice. 
 
 ' I didn't know you cared for my nice 
 things. You have so many people to say
 
 232 Driven to Bay. 
 
 them to you. Captain Lovell, for instance f 
 Isn't he whispering soft nothings to you 
 all day long ? ' 
 
 Alice blushed furiously. 
 
 ' Jack ! you're not jealous — are you ? 
 she whispered. 
 
 He burst out laughing. 
 
 * Jealous ! my dear child ! Most de- 
 cidedly not ! I'm only too delighted to see 
 my little girl so well appreciated. What 
 sort of a fellow is Lovell ? Has he got 
 anything in him ? He looks rather an ass 
 to me.' 
 
 * Not at all,' cried Alice indignantly ; 
 ' he is very clever, and most amusing. I 
 never met any one who made me laugh 
 so much. And he has travelled all over 
 the world, and has a wonderful memory. 
 It is a shame of you to call him an 
 ass.' 
 
 ' I only said he looked like one ! It is 
 all right if he isn't,' remarked Jack coolly. 
 
 ' You are jealous of him ; that's what it 
 is,' said Alice, in a temper.
 
 Remonstrance. 233 
 
 Jack walked straight up to her, and took 
 her hand. 
 
 ' My dear little woman ! you are per- 
 fectly wrong. I am jealous of no man. 
 You have promised to be my wife, and 1 
 rest securely on that promise. Were I 
 to see you flirting with the whole world, 
 I should not suspect you of betraying me. 
 Whilst I am engaged to you, I should 
 consider it most dishonourable to make 
 love to another girl. Why should 1 sus- 
 pect you of possessing a lower nature than 
 my own ? So set your mind at rest upon 
 that score, Alice. I trust you, my dear, 
 as I hope you trust me*' 
 
 ' Good-night,' said Alice, in a stifled 
 voice, as she turned away. ' Mother will 
 be expecting me to join her in the cabin.' 
 
 ' Good-night,' echoed her lover cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 Neither of them kissed the other as 
 they parted, though when this ceremony 
 had first been omitted between them, it 
 would have puzzled them to say — only
 
 2 34 Driven to Bay. 
 
 they seemed somehow to have involun- 
 tarily dropped it. 
 
 Alice ran down the companion almost 
 too quickly for safety, and bolting herself 
 into the cabin, threw herself upon the 
 berth, and burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 * He is too good for me,' she thought 
 remorsefully, * a thousand times over. He 
 always was. He trusts me implicitly, 
 and tells me to trust him in the same 
 manner. Oh, if he only knew ! — if he 
 only knew ! ' 
 
 But at this juncture she heard the 
 cheerful bustle outside of the gentlemen 
 returning to the saloon to finish up the 
 evening with singing and flirtation, so 
 Alice dried her eyes, and arranged her 
 curls afresh, and emerged to seek con- 
 solation at the hands of Captain Lovell. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
 
 UNIVER9ITY OF ILUN0I3-URBANA 
 
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